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LECTURES

O N

RHETORIC

* A N D

BELLES LETTRES.

By HUGH BLAIR, D. D.

ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF THE HIGH CHURCH, AND

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND BELLES LETTRES

IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.

IN THREE VOLUMES,
VOL. L

BASIL:

PRINTED FOR L L. LEGRAND,
MDCCLXXXIX.

JL HE following Lectures were read in itie
tJniverfity of Edinburgh, for Twenty-four years*
The publication of them, at prefent, was not
altogether a matter of choice. Imperfecl Copies
of them , in Manufcript , from notes taken by
Students who heard them read , were lirft pri-
vately handed about ; and afterwards frequently
expofed to public fale. When the Author fiiw
them circulate fo currently, as even to be quoted
in print * , and found himfelf often threatened
with furreptitious publications of them , he
judged it to be high time that they fhould pro-
ceed from his own hand , rather than come into
public view Under fome very defedlive and

erroneous form.

-I

They were originally defigned for the initia-
tion of Youth into the ftudy of Belles Lettres^

* Biographia Britannica. Afticie, ADDISON.

A i

IV

PREFACE.

and of Comporition. With the fame intention
they are now publilhed; and therefore, the fcrm
of Ledlures , in which they were at firft com-
pofed, is ftill retained. The Author gives them
to the world, neither as a Work wholly ori-
ginal , nor as a Compilation from the Writings
of others. On every fubjed contained in them ,
lie has thought for himfelf. He confulted his own
ideas and refledions : and a great part of what
will be found in thefe Ledtures is entirely his
own. At the fame time , he availed himfelf of
the ideas and refledions of others , as far as he
thought them proper to be adopted. To proceed
in this manner J was his duty as a Public Pro-
feffor. It was incumbent on him , to convey to
his Pupils all the knowledge that could improve
them; to deliver not merely what was new,
but what might be ufeful , from whatever quarter
it came. He hopes, that to fuch as are fludying
to cultivate their Tafte , to form their Style,
or to prepare themfelves for Public Speaking or
Compqfitio.n , his Ledures will afford a more
comprehenfive view of what relates to thefq
fubjeds , than , as far as he knows , is to be
received from anyone Book in our Language-

PREFACE. V

In order to render his Work of greater fervice,
he has generally referred to the Books which he
confiilted , as far as he remembers them ; that
the Readers might be directed to any farther
illuftration which they afford. But, as fuch a
length of time has elapfed fmce the firft Com-
pofition of his Lecliires, he may , perhaps , have
adopted the fentiments of fome Author into
whofe Writings he had then looked , without
now remembering whence he derived them.

In the opinions which be has delivered con-
cerning fuch a variety of Authors, and of literary
matters , as come under his confideration , he
cannot exped; that all his Readers will concur
with him. The fubjecls are of fuch a nature , as
allow room for much diverfity of tafte and fenti-
ment: and the author will refpedfully fubmit
to the judgment of the Public,

Retaining the fimplicity of the Ledluring
Style , as beft fitted for conveying inflrudtion ,
he has aimed , in his Language , at no more
than perfpicuity. If, after the liberties which it
was neceffary for him to take , in criticifing the

vl PREFACE.

Style of the moll eminent Writers in our lan-
guage , his own St;yie fliali be thought open to
reprehenfion ; all that he can fay , is , that his
Book will add one to the many proofs already
afforded to the world , of its being much eafier
to give jnftrudion , than to fct example*

CONTENTS

0 F T H E

FIRST VOLUME.

LECT. Page

I. INTRODUCTION. . * * . i

II. Tafte. . . . . .17

III. Criticifm--Genius — Pleafures of Tafte— Sublimity

in ObjeAs. . . . , 41

IV. The Sublime in Writing. , . 69
V. Beauty, and other Pleafures of Tafte. , 91

VI. Rife and Progrefs of Language. . no

VII. Rife and Progrefs of Language , and of

"Writing. i j 3

VIII. Strudhire of Language. . . . . 156

IX. Str'i (flute of Language — Englifh Tongue. 18 1

X. Style — Perfpicuity and Precifion. . 209

XI. Strudure of Sentences. . , - 25s

XII. Strudure of Sentences. . . . 257

XIII. Strudhire of Sentences— --Harmony. . 28a

XIV. Origin and Nature of Figurative Language. 309
XV. Metaphor. . . . . . 334

XVI. Hyperbole— Perfoniiication — Apoftrophe. 360

XVII. Comparifon , Antitheiis , Interrogation ,

Exclamation, and other Figi^res of Speech. 3S7

LECTURE L*

INTRODUCTION,

NE of tlie moft diftinguiflied privileges L e c x.
■which Providence has conferred upon mankind, ^^ ;

is the power of communicating their thoughts to *

one another. Deftitute of this power , Reafon
would be a folitary , and , in fome meafure , aa
unavailing principle. Speech is the great inftru-
ment by which man becomes beneficial to man:
and it is to the intercourfe and tranfmiffion of^,^^ ^ -VA
thought, by means of fpeech, that we are chiefly ,. a % «
indebted for the improvement of thought itfelf. ** * *•*' X
Small are the advances which a fmgle unaffiftedt* iJi f^g^*<y

individual can make towards perfecting any of ^ •

his powers. What we call human reafon , is not ftr*w^^^

the effort or ability of one , fo much as it is th9»«»»%l*-V» ^ScWIIVi
refult of the reafon of many, arifing from lights »,*a^V ^

mutually communicated , in confequence of dif- ^ ,

courfe and writing. ,Vf«% «*

It is obvious, then, that writing and difcomi^
are objeds in titled to the higheft attention. Whe-
ther the influence of the fpeaker, or the enter-
tainment of the hearer , be confulted ; Vvhethec
Vol. I. B

2, INTRODUCTION.

h E- c T. Utility or pleafure be the principal aim in view,
h we are prompted, by the ftrongeft motives , to
ftudy how we may communicate oui thoughts
to one another with mod advantage. Accord-
ingly we find , that in almoft every nation , as
foon as language had extended itfelf beyond that
fcanty communication which was requifite for the
fuppiy of men's neceffities , the improvement of
difcourfe began to attradl regard. In the, language
^ even of rude uncultivated tribes , we can trace
fome attention to the grace and force of thofe
expreffions which they ufed, when they fought
to periuade or to affecl. They were early fen-
fible of a beauty in difcourfe, and endeavoured
to give it certain decorations which experience
iiad taught them it was capable of receiving,
long before the ftudy of thofe decorations was
formed into a regular art.
AR^ J^Jfim* But, among nations in a civilized ftate, no art
• * A •/» ^^^^ been cultivated v/ith more care, than that of
7 '^** "^ language , ftyle , and compofition. The atten-

d^*##^i** •''^ ** ^'o^ P'''^*^^ ^° ^^ may, indeed, be affumed as one

^./ mark of the progrefs of fociety towards its m.oft
fUlt^^^t j^j^pYQYQd period. For, according as fociety ira-

^/l^nS* <y^M>» w»pro ve s and fiourifhes, men acquire more influence
t / »v ^''^'^^' ^^"'^ another by means of reafoning and dif-

• ' courfe ; and in proportion as that inlluence is

*• ^•*'<^» felt to enlarge , it mull; follow , as a natural con-

sequence , that they will beftoW more care up-
on the methods of expreffing their conceptions
with propriety and eloquence. Hence we find ,
that in all the pohllicd. nations of Europe , this

INTRODUCTION,. ,3

ftudy has been treated as highly important, and L e c t,
has poffeffed a confiderable place in every plan I.
of liberal education.

Indeed , when the arts of fpeech and writing
are mentioned -, I am fenfible that prejudices
againft them are apt to rife in the minds of many^
A fort of art is immediately thought of, that is
bftentatious and deceitful ; the minute and trifling
ffcudy of words alone ; the pomp of expreflion ; the
ftudied fallacies of rhetoric; ornament fubftituted in
the roomofufe. We need not wonder, that under
fuch imputations , all ftudy of difcourfe as an art,
fhould have fuffered in the opinion of men o£
underftanding : and I am far from denying , that
rhetoric and criticifm have fometimes been fo
managed as to tend to the corruption , rather
than to the improvement, of good tafte and true
eloquence. But fure it is equally poffible to ap-
ply the principles of reafon and gc^d fenfe ta
this art, as to any other that is cultivated among-
men. If the following Ledures have any meiic,
it will confiffc in an endeavour to fubftitute the
application of thefe principles in the place of ar-
tificial and fcholaftic rhetoric; in an endeavour
to explode falfe ornament , to dired attention
more towards fubftance than fhow, to recom-
mend good fenfe as the foundation of all p-qocI
compofition , and fimplicity as elTential to all true
ornament.

When entering on the fubjecl, I maybe al-
lowed , on this occafion , to fuggeft a itv-r
thoughts concerning the importance and a(Ivan»

B ?

4 INTRODUCTION.

C E c T. tages of fnch ftndies, and the rank tbey are in-
I. titled to poffefs in academical education *i I am
tinder no temptation , for this purpofe , of extol-
ling their importance at the expence of any other
department of fcience. On the contrary, the flu-
dy of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres fuppofes and
requires a proper acquaintance with the reft of
the liberal arts. It embraces them all within its
circle, and recommends them to the higheft re-
gard. The firft care of all fuch as wifh either
to write with reputation , or to fpeak in public
fo as to command attention , muft be , to ex-
tend their knowledge; to lay in a rich ftore of
ideas relating to thofe fubjeds of which the cc-
cafions of hfe may call them to difcourfe or 'to
"write. Hence, among the ancients, it was a
fundamental principle , and frequently inculcated ,
" Quod omnibus difciplinis et artibus debet eiTe
*' inftrudluji; orator ;" that the orator ought to be
an accomplilhed fcholar, and converfantin every
part of learning. It is indeed impoffible to con-
trive an art , and very pernicious it were if it
could be contrived , which lliould give the
{lamp of merit to any compofition rich or fplen-

* The Author was the firft who read Leftures on tliis
fubjed: in the Univerfity of Edinburgh. He began with
reading them in a private charad:er in the year 17s 9- hi
the following year he was chofen ProfeflTor of Rhetoric by
the Magiftrates and Town-council of Edinburgh : and , in
1762, his Majefty was pleafed to ered: and endow a Pro-
felTion of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in that Univerfity 5
gnd the Author was appointed the firft Regius Profefibr. ^

INTRODUCTION. 5

did in expreffion , but barren or erroneous in L e e t.
thought. They are the wretched attempts to- L
wards an art of this kind which have fo often dif-
graced oratory , and debafed it below its true
flandard. The graces of compofition have been
employed to difguife or to fupply the want of
matter i and the temporary applaufe of the igno-
rant has been courted , inftead of the lafting ap-
probation of' the difcerning. But fach irapofture
can never maintain its ground long. Knowledge
and fcience muft furnifli the materials that
form the body and fubftance of any valuable
compofition. Rhetoric ferves to add the polilli;
and we know that none but firm and folid bo-
dies can be poliflied v/ell.

Of thofe who perufe the following Ledures,,
fome, by the profeffion to which they addict
themfelves , or in confequence of their prevailing
inchnation , may have the view of being employ-
ed in compofition , or in public fpeaKing.
Others, without any profpecT; of this kind, may
wifli only to improve their tafle with refpedt to
writing and: difcourfe , and to acquire principles
which will enable them to judge for themfelves
in that part of literature called the Belles Let-
tres.

With refped to the former, fuch as may
have occafion to communicate their fentiments
to the Public , it is abundantly clear that fome
preparation of ftudy is requifite for the end which
they have in vi^w. To fpeak or to write per-
fpicuouOy and agreeably, with purity , v/ith grace

'B3

\
\

6 INTRODUCTION,

I, E c T. and ftrength , are attainments of the ntmoft
L confequence to all who purpofe , either by fpeech

^ or writing, to addrefs the Public. For without
being mafter of thofe attainments , no man can
do juftice to his own conceptions ; but how rich
foever he may be in knowledge and in good
lenfe , will be able to avail himfelf lefs of thofe
treafures , than fuch as poffefs not half his ftore,
but who can difplay what they poffefs with mo-
ye propriety. Neither are thefe attainments of
that kind for which we are indebted to nature
merely. Nature has , indeed , conferred upon
fome a very favourable diftinclion in this refped,
beyond others. But in thefe , as in moft other
talents fhe beftows , Die has left much to be
wrought out by every man's own induftry. So
confpicuous have been the effects of ftudy and
improvement in every part of eloquence ; fuch
remarkable examples have appeared of perfons
furmounting ^ by their diligence , the difadvan-.
tages of the moft untoward nature, that among
the learned it has long been a contefted , and
remains flill an undecided point, whether nature
or art confer moft towards excelling in writing
and difcourfe.

With refped to the manner in which art can
moR effectually furnifh afliftance for fuch a pur-
pofe, there maybe a diverfity of opinions. 1 by
iio means pretend to fay that mere rhetorical
rules , how juft foever , are rufticient to form an
orator. Suppofmg natural genius to be favour-
able , more by a great deal will depend upon

INTRODUCTION. ^

private application and fludy , than upon any L e c t.
fyftem of inflrudion that is capable of being pub- I,
licly communicated. But at the fame time ,
though rules and inftru{flions cannot do all that
is requifite , they may, however, do much that
is of real ufe. They cannot, it is true , infpire
genius ; but they can diredl and aflift it. "^1 hey
cannot remedy barrennefs ; but they may correal 4

redundancy. They point out proper models for
imitation. They bring into view the chief beau-
ties that ought to be ftudied, and the principal
faults that ought to be avoided ; and thereby
tend to enlighten tafte, and to lead genius from
luinatural dev^iations , into its proper channel.
What would not avail for the produdioii of great
excellencies , may at leaft ferve to prevent the
commiffion of confiderable errors.

All that regards the fludy of eloquence and
compofition , merits the higher attention upon
this account , that it is intimately connected with
the improvement of our intellectual powers. Fori
inufl; be allowed to fay, that when we are employed,
after a proper manner , in the fludy of compofi-
tion , we are cultivating reafon itfelf. True rhe-
toric and found logic are very nearly allied. The
fludy of arranging and exprelling our thoughts
with propriety, teaches to think , as well as to
fpeak , accurately. By putting our fentiments
into words , we always conceive them more diC-
tinclly. Everyone who has theOightefl acquaint-
ance with compofition knows , that when he
e:K;preires hirafeif ill on any fubjed; , when his ar->

B 4

S INTRODUCTION.

Le c t. rangement becomes loofe, and his fentences turn
I, feeble, the defeds of his ftyle can, almoft on
every occafion, be traced back to his indiftind
conception of thefubjed;: fo clofe is the connec-
tion between thoughts and the words in which
they are clothed.

The fludy of compofition , important in itfelf

• at all times , has acquired additional importance
from the tafte and manners of the prefent age.
It is an age wlierein improvements , in every part
of fcience , have been profecuted with ardour.
To all the liberal arts much attention has been
paid ; and to none more than to the beauty of
language , and the grace and elegance of every

* 3s:ind of writing. The public ear is become re-
lined. It will not eafily bear what is flovenly
and incorred. Every author muft afpire to fome
merit in exprefTion, as well as in fentiment, if
he would not incur the danger of being negled-
ed and defpifed.

I WILL not deny that the' love of minute ele-
gance, and attention to inferior ornaments of
compofition , may at prefent have engrofled too
g'reat a degree of the public regard. It is in-
deed my opinion , that we lean to this extreme ;
often more careful of polifhing ftyle, than of
ftoring it with thought. Yet hence arifes a new
reafon for the ftudy of juft and proper compofi-
tion. If it be requifite not to be deficient in
elegance or ornament in times when they are in
fuch high eftimation , it is ftill more requifite to
attain the power of diftinguilhing falfe ornamenfi

INTRODUCTION. 9

from true , in order to prevent our being Carried L e c t.
away by that torrent of falfe and frivolous tafte , 1.
which never fails , when it is prevalent , to fweep
along with it the raw and the ignorant. They
who have never fludied eloquence in its princi-
ples , nor have been trained to attend to the ge-
nuine and manly beauties of good writing , are
always ready to be caught by the mere glare of
language ; and when they come to fpeak in
public , or to compofe , have no other ftandard
on which to form themfelves , except what
chances to be falhionable and popular , how
corrupted foever, or erroneous, that may be.

But as there are many who have no fucli ob-
jeds as either compofition or public fpeaking in t^^f

view , let us next confider what advantages may
be derived by them , from fuch ftudies as form
the fubjed; of thefe Ledlures. To them , rhetoric
is not fo much a practical art as a fpeculative
jTcience ; and the fame inftruclions which affift
others in compofmg, will affift them in judging
of, and reliiliing, the beauties of compofition.
Whatever enables genius to execute well, wili
enable tafte to criticife juftly.

When we name criticifing, prejudices' may^ ^

perhaps arifc , of the fame kind with thofe which
I mentioned before with refped: to rhetoric. As rhe-
toric has been fometimes thought to fignify nothing
more than the fcholaflic ftudy of words, and phrafes,
and tropes , fo criticifm has been confidered as
merely the art of finding faults; as the frigid
application of certain technical terms , by means

lo INTRODUCTION.

L E c T, of wliicli perfons arc taught to cavil and cenfurff
I^ in a learned manner. But this is the criticifm of
pedants only. True criticifm is a liberal and
humane art, It is the offspring of good fenfe
V . and refined tafle. It aims at acquiring a juft

difcernment of the real merit of authors. It pro-
motes a lively relifii of their beauties , while it
preferves us from that blind and implicit vener-
ation which would confound their beauties and
faults in our efteem. It teaches us, in a word,
to admire and to blame with judgment, and not,
to follow the crchwd blindly.

In an age when works of genius and literature
are fo frequently the fubjeds of difcourfe, when

01 •' every one erects himfelf into a judge, and when

we can hardly mingle in polite fociety without
bearing fome fliare in fuch difcuffions ; ftudies of
this kind , it is not to be doubted, will appear ta
derive part of their importance from the ufe ta
which they may be appHed in furnilhing materi-
als for thofe fafliionable topics of difcourfe, and
thereby enabling us to fupport a proper rank int
focial life.

But lihould be forry if we could not reft the
merit of fuch ftudies on fomewhat of folid and
intrinfical ufe independent of appearance andfliow.
The exercife of tafte and of found criticifm , is in
truth one of the moft improving employments of
the underftanding. To apply the principles of good
fenfe to compolition and difcourfe ; to examine what
is beautiful , and why it is fo ; to employ ourfel-
ves in diftinguiiliing accurately between the

INTRODUCTION. ir

fpecious and the folid , between afFecled and na- L e c 'l\
tural ornament , muft certainly improve us not L
a little in the moft valuable, part of all philofo-
phy , the philofophy of human nature. For fuch
difquifitions are very intimately conned:ed with
the knowledge ofourfelves. They neceffarily lead
us to refled on the operations of the imagination,
and the movements of the heart , and increafe
our acquaintance with fome of the moft refined
feelings which belong to our frame.

Logical and Ethical difquifitions move in a
higher fphere , and are converfant with objedts
of a more fever e kind ; the progrefs of the un-
derftanding in its fearch after knowledge , and the -^

dire(flion of the will in the proper purfuit of lUpiff ^

good. In thefe they point out to man the im-
provement of his nature as an intelligent being ;
and his duties as the fubjed: of moral obligation.
Belles Lettres and criticifm chiefly confider him
as a Being endowed with thofe powers of tafte
and imagination , which were intended to embel-
lifh his mind, and to fupply him with rational
and ufeful entertainment. They open a field of
inveftigation peculiar to themfelves. All that
relates to beauty, harmony, grandeur, and ele-
gance ; all that can footh the mind , gratify the
fancy, or move the affed;ions, belongs to their
province. They prefent human nature under a dif-
ferent afpecl from that which it affumes to the
view of other fciences. They bring to light
various fprings of action which without their aid
iiiight have paffed unobferved^ and -vY^ich^

tmwm

IS INTRODUCTION.

I E c T. thongli of a delicate nature , frequently exert a
I, powerful influeiK^e on feyeral departments of
human life.

Such ftudies have alfo this peculiar advantage^
tliat they exercife our reafon without fatiguing
it. They lead to enquiries acute , but not
painful J profound , but not dry nor abftrufe.
They ftrew flowers in the path of fcience j and
while they keep the mind bent, in fome degree,
and adive , they relieve it at the fame time from
that more toilfome labour to which it muft fub-
mit in the acquifition of neceffary erudition , or
the inveftigation of abftracl truth.

The cultivation of tafte is farther recommend-
ed by the happy effedls which it naturally tends,
to produce on human life. The moft bufy man^
in the mofb adlive fphere , cannot be always oc-
cupied by bufmefs. Men of ferious profeffions
cannot always be on the ftretch of ferious.
thought. Neither can the mod gay and flourifh-.
ing fituations of fortune afford, any man the
power of filling all his hours with pleafure. Life
muft always languifh in the hands of the idle.
It will frequently languilh even in the hands of
the bufy, if they have not fome employment
fubfidiary to that which form.s their main pur-
suit. How then fliall thefe vacant fpaces , thofe
unemployed intervals, which, more or lefs , oc-
cur in the life of every one , be filled up ? How
can we contrive to difpofe of them in any way
that [hdl be more agreeable in itfelf, or more
confonant to the dignity of the human n^iind ^

INTRODUCTION. 13

tlian in the entertainments of tafte, and the fludy L E c t.
of pohte literature? He who is fo happy as to I.
have acquired a rehfh for thefe, has always at
hand an innocent and irreproachable amuiement
for his leifure hours , to fave him from the dan-
ger of maany a pernicious pafiion. He is not in
hazard of being a burden to himfelf. He is not
obliged to fly to low company, or to court the
riot of loofe pleafures , in order to cure the te-
dioufnefs of exiftence.

Providence feems plainly to have pointed
out this ufeful purpofe to which the pleafures of
tafte may be applied , by interpofing them in a
middle flation between the pleafures of fenfe,
and thofe of pure intelledt. We were not de-
figned to grovel always among objects fo low
as the former; nor are we capable of dwelling
conftantly in fo high a region as the latter. The
pleafures of tafte refrefli the mind after the toils
of the intellecl; , and the labours of abftracfl flu-
dy; and they gradually raife it above the attach-
ments of fenfe , and prepare it for the enjoymients
of virtue.

So confonant is this to experience , that in the
education of youth, no object has in every age
appeared more important to wife men, than to
tincture them early with a relilli for the enter-
tainments of tafte. The tranfition is commonly-
made with eafe from thefe to the difcharge of
the higlier and more important duties of life.
Good hopes may be entertained of thofe v/hofe
minds have this liberal and elegant turn. Many

14 INTRODUCTIO N.

L E c T. virtues may be grafted upon it. Whereas to be
I. entirely devoid of relifli for eloquence, poetry,
or any of the fine arts, is juftly conflru^ed to
be an unpromifing fymptom of youth ; and raifes
fupicions of their being prone to low gratifica-
tions, or deftined to drudge in the more vulgar
and illiberal purfuits of life.

There are indeed few good difpofitions of
any kind with which the improvement of tafte
is not more or lefs conneded. A cultivated tafte
increafes fenfibility to all the tender and humane
paffions , by giving them frequent exercife ;
"while it tends to weaken the more violent and
lierce emotions.

Ingeniias didiclfle fideliter artes

EnioUit mores , nee finit effe feros. *

The elevated fentiments and high examples
which poetry , eloquence and hiftory are often
bringing under our view , naturally tend to
nourifh in our minds public fpirit, the love of
glory, contempt of external fortune, and the
4idmiration of what is truly iliuftrious and
great,

I WILL not go fo far as to fay that the im-
provement of tafte and of virtue is the fame ;
or that they may always be expeded to coexift
in an equal degree. More powerful correctives
than tafte can apply , are neceffary for reforming

* Thefe polifned arts have humaniz'd mankind ,
Softeii'd the rude, and calra'd the boiil'rous mind,.

INTRODUCTION. 15

the corrupt propenfities wLich too frequently L e c T,
prev^ail among mankind. Elegant fpeculations L
are fometimes found to float on the furface of
the mind , while bad paffions poffefs the interior
regions of the heart At the fame time this
cannot but be admitted , that the exercife of -
tafte is , in its native tendency, moral and purify-
ing. From reading the moft admired produdi-
ons of genius , whether in poetry or profe , almoft
every one rifes with fome good impreflions left
on his m.md ; and though thefe may not always
be durable , they are at leaft to be ranked among
the means of difpofmg the heart to virtue. One
thing is certain , and 1 fhall hereafter have oc-
cafion to illuftrate it more fully ^ that without
pofieuing the virtuous affections in a ffcrong decree,
no man can attain eminence in the fublime parts
of eloquence. He muft feel what a good man ^

feels , if he expedis greatly to move or to inter-
efl mankind. They are the ardent fentiments of
honour , virtue , magnanimity ,. and publick fpi-
rit , that only can kindle that fire of genius, and
call up into the mind thofe high ideas, which
attrad the admiration of ages; and if this fpirit
be neceffary to produce the moft difi:inguiihed
efforts of eloquence, it muQ; be neceffary alfo to
our relinking them with proper tafte and feeling.
On thefe general topics I fliall dwell no long-
er ; but proceed dirediy to the confideration
of the fubjeds which are to employ the follow-
ing Lectures. They divide themfelves into five
parts. Firft, fomc introdudory differtations on

i6 INTRODUCTION,

L E c T. the ftate of tafhe , and upon the fources of its
L pleafures. Secondly, the confideration of language.
Thirdly, of ftyle : Fourthly, of eloquence pro-
perly fo called , or publick fpeaking in its
different kinds. Laffcly , a critical examination of
the mofb diftinguilhed fpecies of compofition ,
both in profe and verfe.'

LEG-

LECTURE II.

TASTE.

J- 'HE nature of the prefent undertaking leads l ^ c t
mG to begin with fome enquiries concerning jj^
Tafte, as it is this faculty -which is always ap-
pealed to in difquifitions concerning the merit
of difcourfe and writing.

There are few fubjeds on which men talk
more loofely and indiftindtly than on TaRe ; few
which it is more difficult to explain wiih prs-
cifion ; and none which in this Courfe of Lec-
tures will appear m.ore dry or abftracl. What
I have to fay on the fubjed fliall be in the fol-
lowing order. I fhall firH explain the Nature of
Tafte as a power or faculty in the human mind.
I fiiall next confider how far it is an improve-
able faculty. I fliall {l:iew the fources of its im-
provement, and the characters of Tafte in its
moft perfecl ftate. I fliall then examine the
various fluduations to which it is liable, and
enquire whether there be any ftandard to which
we can bring the different taftes of men, in or-
der to diftinguifli the corrupted from the true.

Vol. I. G

n T A S T K

£ s c T. Taste may "be defined " The power of receiv-
IL " ing pleafure from the beauties of nature and
" of art. " The firft queftion that occurs concern-
ing it is, whether it is tp be confidered as an
internal fenfe , or as an exertion of reafon ?
Reafon is a very general term 5 but if we under-
fland by it, that power of the mind which in
fpeculative matters difcovers truth, and in prac-
tical matters judges of the fitnefs of means to an
end , I apprehend the queftion' may be eafily an-
fwered. For nothing can be more clear, than
that tafte is not refolveable into any fuch ope-
ration of Reafon. It is not merely through a dif-
covery of the underflanding or a deduction of
argument, that the mind recei\'es pleafure from
a beautiful profped or a fine poem. Such objecls
often ftrike us intuitively, and make a ftrong
impreffion when we are unable to affign the
reafons of our being pleafed. They fometiraes
flrike in the fame manner the philofopher and
the peafant; the boy and the man. Hence the
faculty by which we relilh fuch beauties, feems
more a-kin to a feeUng of fenfe , than to a pro-
cefs of the underftanding : and accordingly from
an external fenfe it has borrowed its name; that
fenfe by which we receive and diftinguilli the
pleafures of food having, in feveral languages,
given rife to the word Tafte in the metaphorical
meaning under which we now" confider it. flow-
ever , as in ail fubjecls which regard the ope-
rations of the mind, the inaccurate ufe of words
is to be carefully avoided, it muft not be infer-

TASTE. f9

red from wbati have faid, that reafon isexclud- Leg t,
ed from the exertions of Tafte, Though Tafte , ]1,
beyond doubt, be ultimately founded on a cer-
tain natural and inftindive fenfibility to beauty,
yet reafon, as I fliall ihew hereafter, affifts Tafte
in many of its operations , and ferves to enlarge
its power *.

Taste , in the fenfe in which I have explained
it , is a faculty common in fome degree to all men.
Nothing that belongs to human nature is more
univerfal than the relifli of beauty of one kind or
other; of what is orderly, proportioned, grand,
harmonious, new, or fprightly. In "children, the
rudiments of Tafte difcover themfelves very early
in a thoufand inftances ; in their fondnefs for
regular bodies , their admiration of pidures and
ftatues , and imitations of all kinds ; and their
ftrong attachment to whatever is ne\v or mar-
vellous. The moft ignorant peafants are delight-
ed with ballads and tales, and are ftruck with
the beautiful appearances of nature in the earth
and heavens. Even in the defarts of America,
wh^re human nature fliews itfelf in its moft
uncultivated ftate , the favages have their orn-
aments cfdrels, their war and their death fongs,
their harangues , and their orators. We muft *

* See Dr. Gerard's ElTay on Tafte.— D'AIembert's Reflexi-
ons on the ufe and abiife of phiiofophy in matters which relate
to Tafte. — Reflexions Critiques fur la poefie et fur ia peinturCj
Tom II. ch. 22 — ;i. Elements of Cricicifm, chap. 2<;, — Mr,
Eume's Effay on the Standard of Tafte.— Indrodudion t© thf
Effdy on the Sublime and Beautiful

C i|

ao

TASTE.

t E CT. therefore conclude the principles of Tafle to be

II. deeply founded in the human mind. It is no

lefs elTential to man to have fome difcernment

of beauty, than it is to poffefs the attributes of

reafon and of fpeech*.

But although none be wholly devoid of this
faculty, yet the degrees in which it is poffelTed
are widely different. In fome men only the

* On die fubjedt of Tafte confider'ed as a power or faculty
of the mind, much lefs is to be found among the ancient, than
among the modern rhetorical and critical writers. The fol-
lowing remarkable pafikge in Cicero ferves- however to fhew,
that his ideas on this fubjeft agree perfectly with what has
been faid above. He*is fpeaking of the beauties of ityle and
numbers, " lllud autem nequis admiretur quonam mode
„ hnec vulgus imperitorum in audiendo, notet ; cum in omni
„ genere , turn in hoc ipfo , magna quaedam eft vis , incredi-
i5 bilifque natuTEe. Omnes enim tacito quodam fsnfu , fine
55 ulla arte aut ratione, quce fnit in artibus de rationibus redra
55 et prava dijudicant : idque cum faciunt in pidiiris, et in
55 fignis, et in aliis operibus, ad quorum intelligentiam a na-
55 tura minus habcnt inftrumenti, turn multo oftendunt magis
55 in verborum, nunierorum, vocumque judicio ; quod ea funt
„• in communibus infixa fenfibus ; neque earum rerum quen-
55 quam funditus natura voluit effe expertem." Cic. de Orat.
lib. iii. cap. so. Edit. Giuteri. Q^uinctihan feems to in-
clude Tafte (for which, in the fenfe which we now give to
that word the ancients appear to have had no diftind name )
under what he calls judicium., " Locus de judicio, mea qui-
55 dem opinione adeo partibus hujus operis omnibus connec-
55 tus ac miftus eft, ut ne a fententiis quidem aut verbis fai-
55 tern fingulis poffit feparari , nee magis arte traditur quam

55 guftus aut odor. Ut contraria vitemus et communia, ne

55 quid in eloquendo corruptum obfcurumque fit, referatur
55 opoitet ad fenfus qui non docentur." Liftitut. lib vi cap. 3.
^dit. Cbrechti.

TASTE. 21

feeble glimmerings of Tafte appear ; the beauties L e C T,
which they relilh are of the coarfeft kind ; and IL
of thefe they have but a weak and confufed
impreffion : while in others , Tafte rifes to an.
acute difcernment and a lively enjoyment of the
moft refined beauties. In general , we may ob-
ferve , that in the powers and pleafures of Tafte,
there is a more remarkable inequality among
men than is ufually found in point of common
fenfe, reafon, and judgment. The conftitution
of our nature in this, as in all 'other refpeds,
difcovers admirable wifdom. In the diftributioii '
of thofe talents which are necefTary for man's
well-being. Nature hath made lefs diftindion
among her children. But in the diftribution of
thofe which belong only to the ornamental part
of life, fhe hath beftowed her favours with
more frugality. She hath both fown the feeds
more fparingly; and rendered a higher culture
requifite for bringing them to perfection. ^

This inequality of Tafte among men is owing,
without doubt, in part, to the different frame
of their natures ; to nicer organs , and finer
internal powers, with which fome are endowed
beyond others. But, if it be owing in part
to nature , it is owing to education and culture
flill more. The illuftration of this leads to my
next remark on this fubjed; , that Tafte is a
moft improveable faculty , if there be any fuch
in human nature ; a remark which gives great
encouragement to fuch a courfe of ftudy as wc
are no^Y■ propofmg to purfue. Of the truth of '

C 3

22

T A S T H.

L E c T. this affertion we may eafily be convinced , hy
II. only refieding on that immenfe fuperiority which
education and improvement give to civilized,
above barbarous nations, in refinement of Tafte;
and on the fuperiority which they give in the
fame nation to thofe who have ftudied the li-
beral arts , above the rude and untaught vulgar.
The difference is fo great, that there is perhaps
no one particular in which thefe two claffes of
men are fo far removed from each other, as in
refpect of the powers and the pleafures ofTafle:
and affuredly for this difference no other general
caufe can be afli.c^ned , but culture and education.
—I Ihall now proceed to fhew what the means
are , by which Tafte becomes fo remarkably
fufceptible of cultivation and progrefs.

R.EFLECT firft: upon that great law of our
nature , that exercife is the chief fource of im-
provement in all our faculties. This holds both
in our bodily , and in our mental powers. It
holds even in our external fenfes; although
thefe be lefs the fubjedl of cultivation than any
of our other faculties. We fee how acute the
fenfes become in perfons whofe trade or bufmefs
leads to nice exertions of them. Toucii , for
inftance, becomes infinitely m.ore exquifite in
men whofe employment requires them to exa-
mine the polifh of bodies, than it is in others.
They who deal in microfcopical obfervations ,
or are accuftomed to engrave on precious ftones,
acquire furprifing accuracy of fight in difcerning
the minuteft objedls j and pradice in attending

TASTE.

23

to different flavours and tafles of liquors , \vond- Leg t«
erfully improves the power of diftinguifliing them, II.
and of tracing their compofition. Placing in-
ternal Tafte therefore on the footing of a fimple
fenfe, it cannot be doubted that frequent exercife,
and curious attention to its proper objeds , muft
greatly heighten its power. Of this we have
one clear proof in that part of Tafle, which is
called an ear for mufic. Experience every day
fhews, that nothing is more improveable. Only
the fimpleft and plainefb compofitions are relifhed
at firft ; ufe and pradice extend our pleafure ;
teach us to relifh finer melody , and by degrees
enable us , to enter into the intricate and com-
pounded pleafures of harmony. So an eye for the ,
beauties of painting is never all at once acquired, |
It is gradually formed by being converfant !
among pidures, and fludying the works of :
the^ bed maflers.

Precisely in the fame manner , with refpedl
to the beauty of compofition and difcourfe,
attention to the moft approved models , ffcudy
of the befb authors, comparifons of lower and
higher degrees of the fame beauties , operate
towards the refinement of Tafte. When one is
only beginning his acquaintance with works of
genius , the fentiment which attends them is
obfcure and confufed. He cannot point out the
feveral excellencies or blemilhes of a performance
which he perufes ; he is at a lofs on what to reffc
his judgment; all that can be expeded is, that
he fhould tell in general whether he be pleafed

G4

24 TASTE.

L E c T. or not. But allow him more experience in
II. works of this kind , and his Tafte becomes by-
degrees more exact and enlightened. He begins
to perceive not only the character of the whole,
but the beauties and defeds of each part; and
is able to defcribe the peculiar qualities which
he praifes or blames. The mift diffipates which
feemed formerly to hang over the objedl ; and
he can at length pronounce firmly , and without
hefitation , concerning it. Thus in Tafte , con-
fidered as mere fenfibility , exercife opens a great
fource of improvement.

But although Tafte be ultimately founded
on fenfibility, it mufb not be confidered as in-
flindive fenfibility alone. Reafon and good fenfe,
as 1 before hinted , have fo extenfive an influ-
ence on all the operations and decifions of Tafte,
that a thorough good Tafte may well be con-
fidered as a power compounded of natural
fenfibility to beauty , and of improved under-
ftanding. In order to be fatisfied of this , let
us obferve , that the greater part of the produc-
tions of genius are no other than imitations of
nature ; reprefentations of the characters , adions,
or manners of men. The pleafure we receive
from fuch imitations or reprefentations is found-
ed on mere Tafte: but to judge whether they
be properly executed, belongs to the underftand-
ing, which compares the copy with the original.
In reading, for inftance , fuch a poem as the
iEneid, a great part of our pleafure arifes from
the plan or ftory being well conduded, and all

•TASTE. 25

the parts joined together with, probability and Leg t.
due connexion; from the chara6lers being taken II.
from nature , the fentiments being fuited to the
charaders, and the ftyJe to the fentiments. The
pleafure which anfes from a poem fo condudled, ''
is felt or enjoyed by Tafte as an internal fenfe;
but the difcovery of this conduct in the poem
is owing to reafon ; and the more that reafon
enables us to difcover fuch propriety in the
condud; , the greater will be our pleafure. We
are pleafed , through our natural fenfe of beau-
ty. Reafon fliev/s us why , and upon what
grounds , we are pleafed. Wherever in works
of Tafte, any refemblance to nature is aimed
at ; wherever there is any reference of parts to
a whole , or of means to an end , as there is
indeed in almoffc every writing and difcourfe ,
there the underftanding muft always have a
great part to ad.

Here then is a wide field for reafon's exerting
its powers in relation to the objeds of Tafte,
particularly with refped to compofition , and
works of genius ; and hence arifes a fecond and
a very confiderable fource of the improvement
of Tafte, from the application of reafon and
good fenfe to fuch produdions of genius. Spu-
rious beauties, fuch as unnatural chara.ders, for-
ced fentiments , aifeded ftyle , m.ay pleafe for
a little; but they pleafe only becauXe their
oppofition to nature and to good fenfe has not
been examined, or attended to. Once ffiew how
nature might have been more juftly imitated

iG T, A S T E.

ty E c T. or reprefentecl : liow the writer miglit have
SI. managed his fubjed; to greater advantage ; the
jlhifion will prefently be diffipated, and thofc
falfe beauties will pleafe no more.

From thefe two fources then, iirfl, the fre-
^^iient exercife of Tafte , and next the application
of good fenfe and reafon to the objeds of
Tafte, Tafte as a power of the mind receives
its improvement. In its perfed; ftate, it is un-
doubtedly the refult both of nature and of art.
It fuppofes our natural fenfe of beauty to be
refined by frequent attention to the moft beau-
tiful objects, and at the fame time to be guided
and improved by the light of the underftanding.
I MUST be allowed to add, that as a found
head, fo likewife a good heart, is a very ma-
terial .cequirite to juft Tafte. The moral beau-
ties are not only in themfelves fuperior to all
others, but they exert an influence, either more
near or more remote, on a great variety or
other objeds of Tafte. Wherever the affedions ,
charaders , or adions of men are concerned
(and thefe certainly afford the nobleft fubjeds-
to genius) , there can be neither any juft or
affeding defcription of them , nor any thorough
feeling of the beauty of that defcription , with-
out our poffeffing the virtuous affedions. He
whofe heart is indelicate or hard, he who has
no admiration of what is truly noble or praife-
worthy, nor the proper fympathetic fenfe of
what is /oft and tender, muft have a very

T A S T E. 3^

imperfec5l relllh of the liighefl: beauties of elo- L e c ip-,
quence and poetry. II.

The characters of Tafte when brought to
its moft perfed: ftate are all reducible to two,
Delicacy and Corrednefs,

Delicacy of Tafte refpecls principally the
perfeccion of that natural fenfibility on which
Tafte is founded. It implies thofe finer organs
or powers which enable us to difcover beauties
that lie hid from a vulgar eye. One may have
flrong fenfibility, and yet be deficient in delicate
Tafte. He may be deeply impreffed by fuch'
beauties as he perceives ; but he perceives only
what is in fdme degree coarfe, what is bold
and palpable ; while chafter and fimpler orna-
ments efcape, his notice. In this ftate Tafte gene-
rally exifts among rude and unrefined nations.
But a perfon of delicate Tafte both feels flrong-
]y , and feels accurately. He fees diftindlions
and differences where others fee none ; the moft'
latent beauty does not efcape him , and he is
fenfible of the fmalleft blemifh. Delicacy of
Tafte is judged of by the fame marks that we
life in judging of the delicacy of an external
fenfe. As the goodnefs of the palate is not
tried by ftrong flavours , but by a mixture of
ingredients, where, notwithftanding the con.
fufion, we remain fenfible of each; in like man-
ner delicacy of internal Tafte appears, by a
quick and lively fenfibifity to its fineft, moft
compounded, or moft latent objeds.

28 TASTE.

L E c T. Correctness of Tafle refpeds chiefly the
11. improvement which that faculty receives through
its connexion with the underftanding. A man
of corred; Tafte is one who is never im-
pofed on by counterfeit beauties ; who carries
always in his mind that ftandsird of good fenfe
which he employs in judging of every thing.
He effcimates with propriety the comparative
merit of the feveral beauties which he meets
with in any work of genius ; refers them to
their proper claffes ; afiigns the principles , as
far as they can be traced, whence their power
of pleafing us flows ; and is pleafed himfelf
precifely in that degree in which he ought,
and no more.

It is true that thefe two qualities of Tafte,
Delicacy and Corredlnefs , mutually imply each
other. No Tafte can be exquifitely delicate
without being corred ; nor can be thoroughly
corred without being delicate. But ftill a pre-
dominancy of one or other quality in the
mixture is often vifible. The power of Delicacy
is chiefly feen in difcerning the true merit of
a work; the power of Corrednefs , in rejeding
falfe pretenfions to merit. Delicacy leans more
to feeling ; Corrednefs more to reafon and
judgment. The former is more the gift of na-
ture; the latter, more the produd of culture
and art. Among the ancient critics, Longinus
poffeffed moft Delicacy; Ariftotle , moft Corred-
nefs. Among the moderns, Mr, Addifon is a
high example of delicate Tafte; Dean Swift,

TASTE. 29

had he -written on the fubjedl of crlticifm , L e c T.
^vould perhaps have afforded the example of a n,
corred; one.

Having viewed Tafte in its moft improved
and perfect ftate, I come next to confider its
deviation^ from that ftate, the flnduations and
changes to which it is hable; and to enquire
whether, in the midft of tbefs, there be any
means of diftinguifhing a true from a corrupted '
Tafte. This brings us to the moft. difficult
part of our tafk. For it muft be acknowledged,
that no principle of the human mind is , in its
operations , more flucluating and capricious than
Tafte. Its variations have been fo great and
frequent , as to create a i^ufpicion with forae,
of its being merely arbitrary; grounded on no
foundation , afcertainable by no ftandard , but
wholly dependent on changing fancy; the con-
fequence of which would be , that all ftudies
or regular enquiries concerning the objecls of
Tafte were vain. In architedure, the Grecian
models were long efteemed the moft perfed.
In fucceeding ages, the Gothic architecture alone
prevailed , and afterwards the Grecian Tafte
revived in all its vigour,, and engroffed the
public admiration. In eloquence and \ poetry,
the Afiatics at no time relillied any thing but
what was full of ornament, and fplendid in a
degree that \vq would denominate gawdy;
whilft the Greeks admired only chafte and fim-
ple beauties, and defpifed the Afiatic oftentation.
In our own country , how many writings that

30 TASTE.

i, E c T. were greatly extolled two or three centuries
II. ^gc>» ^re now fallen into entire difrepute and
oblivion? Without going back to remote inftan-
ces , how very different is the tafte of poetry
which prevails in Great Britain now , from what
prevailed there no longer ago than the reign of
King Charles II. which the authors too of that
time deemed an Auguftan age: when nothing
was in vogue but an affeded brilliancy of wit;
when the fimple majefty of Milton was over-
looked, and Paradife Loft almoft entirely un-
known ; when Cowley's laboured and unnatural
conceits were admired as the very quinteffence
of genius j Waller's gay fprightlinefs was mif-
taken for the tender fpirit of Love poetry; and
fuch writers as Suckling and Etheridge were held
in efteem for dramatic compofition ?

Tke queftion is , what conclufion we are tO
form from fuch inftances as thefe ? Is there any
thing that can be called a ftandard of Tafte , by
appealing to which we may diftinguilli between
a good and a bad Tafte? Or, is there in truth
no fuch diftindion; and are we to hold that,
according to the proverb, there is no difputing
of Taftes; but that whatever pleafes is right,
for that reafon that it does pleafe ? This is the
queftion, and a very nice and fubtile one it is,
which we are now to difcufs.

I BEGIN by obferving, that if there be no fuch
thing as any ftandard of Tafte , this confequence
muft immediately follow, that all Taftes are
equally good; a pofttion, which though it may

TASTE. 31

pafs unnoticed in fliglit matters , and when we L e c T.
fpeak of the leirer differences among the Taftes U,
■of men, yet when we apply it to the extremes,
its abfurdity prefently becomes glaring. For is
there any one who will ferioufly maintain that
the Tafte of a Hottentot or a Laplander is as
delicate and as corred as that of a Longinus or
an Addifon ? or, that he can be charged witJi
no defect or incapacity who thinks a common
news-writer as excellent an Hiftorian as Tacitus?
As it would be held downright extravagance to
talk in this manner , we are led unavoidably to
this conclufion, that there is fome foundation
for the preference of one man's Tafte to that of
another; or, that there is a good and a bad, a
right and a wrong in Tafte , as in other things.

But to prevent miftakes on this fubjed: , it is
neceffary to obferve next , that the diverfity of
Tafles which prevails among mankind does not
in every cafe infer corruption of Tafte , or oblige
lis to feek for fome ftandard in order to deter-
mine who are in the right. The Taftes of men
m.ay differ very confiderably as to their objed,
and yet none of them be wrong. One man reiifhe§
Poetry moft ; another takes pleafure in nothing
but Hiftory. One prefers Comedy ; another ,
Tragedy. One admires the Rmple ; another , the
ornamented ftyle. The young are amufed with
gay and fprightly compofitions. The elderly ar^
more entertained with thofe of a graver cafi:.
Some nations delight in bold pidures of manners
and ftrong reprefentations of paffion. Others

3-4 TASTE.

L E c T. incline to more correal and regular elegance both
11. in defcription and fentiment. Though all differ,
yet all pitch upon fome one beauty which pecu-
harly fuits their turn of mind; and therefore no
one has a title to condemn the reft. It is not in
matters of Tafte , as in queftions of mere reafon,
where there is but one concluiion that can be
true, and all the reft are erroneous. Truth , which
is the objed: of reafon, is one ; Beauty , which
is the objecft of Tafte, is manifcld. Tafte there-
fore admits of latitude and diverfity of objeds,
in fufficient conftftency with goodnefs or juftnefs
of Tafte.

But then, to explain this matter thoroughly,
I mAift obferve farther , that this admiffibie di-
verfity- of Taftes can only have place where the
objeclis of Tafte are different. Where it is with
refpecl to the fame object that men difagree ,
when one condemns that as ugly , which another
admires as highly beautiful; then it is no longer
diverfity, but direct oppofition of Tafte that
takes place ; and therefore one muft be in
the right , and another in the wrong , unlefs
that abfurd paradox were allov/ed to hold,
that all Taftes are equally good and true. One
man prefers Virgil to Homer. Suppofe that I ,
on the other hand, admire Homer more than
Virgil. I have as yet no reafon to fay that our
Taftes are contradidory. The other perfon is
moft ftruck with the elegance and tendernefs
which are the characleriftics of Virgil ; I , with
the fimplicity and iire of Homer. As long as

neither

T A S T R 33

neither of us deny that both Homer and Virgii L e c T.
have great beauties, our difference falls within 11.
the compafs of that diverfity of Taftes , which
I have lliewed to be natural and allowable.
But if the other man ihall affert that Homer has
no beauties whatever ; that he holds him to be
a dull and fpiritlefs writer, and that he would
as foon perufe any old legend of Knight-Errantry
as the Iliad; then I exclaim, that myantagonifl:
either is void of all Tafte , or that his Tafte is
corrupted in a miferable degree; and 1 appeal
to whatever I think the ftandard of Tafte , to
fhew him that he is in the wrong.

What that ftandard is, to which in fuch oppofi-
tion of Taftes, we are obliged to have recourie
remains to be traced. A ftandard properly figni-
lies , that which is of fuch undoubted authority
as to be the teft of other things of the fame kind.
Thus a ftandard weight or meafure , is that which
is appointed by law to regulate all other mea-
fures and weights. Thus the court is faid to be
the ftandard of good breeding ; and the fcripture,
of theological truth.

When we fay that 'nature is the ftandard of
Tafte, we lay down a principle very true and
juft, as far as it can be applied. T4ier^- is no
doubt, that in all cafes where an imitation is in-
tended of fome objed that exifts in nature as
in reprefenting human characters or adions, con-
formity to nature affords a full and diftind crite-
rion of what is truly beautiful. Reafon hath ia
fuch cafes full fcope fox exerting its authority;

Vol. I. ^ D

34 TASTE.

L E c T. for approving or condemning; by comparing the
II. copy -with the original. But there are innumer-
able cafes in which this rule cannot be at all ap-
plied ; and conformity to nature, is an expreffioii
J frequently ufed , without any diflind: or determine,

ate meaning. We muft therefore fearch for
fomewhat that can be rendered more clear and
precife, to be the ftandard of Tafte.

Taste, as I before explained it, is ultimately
founded on an internal fenfe of beauty, which
is natural to men , and which , in its application
to particular objedls , is capable of being guided
and enlightened by reafon. Now, were there
any one perfon who pofTeffed in full perfection
all the powers of human nature, whofe internal
fenfes were in every inftance exquifite and juft,
and whofe reafon was unerring and fure, the
determinations of fuch a perfon concerning beau-
ty, would, beyond doubt, be a perfed ftand-
ard for the Tafte of all others. Where-ever
their Tafte differed from his , it could be imput-
ed only to fome imperfedion in their natural
powers. But as there is no fuch living ftandard,
no one perfon to whom all mankind will allow
fuch fubmiffion to be due , what is there of
fufficient authority to be the ftandard of the
various and oppoftte Taftes of men? Moft
certainly there is nothing but the Tafte , as
far as it can be gathered, of human nature. That
■which men concur the moft in admiring, muft
be held to be beautiful. His Tafte muft be
efteemed juft and true, which coincides with

T A S T R 35

the general fentiments of men. In tlijs ftandard L e c x*
we muft reft. To the fenfe of inankind the IL
ultimate appeal muft: ever lie j in all works of
Tafte. If any one fhould maintain that fugar
was bitter and tobacco was fweet . no reafonings
■could avail to prove it. The Tafte of fuch a
perfon would infallibly be held to be difeafed,
merely becaufe it differed fo widely from thd
Tafte of the fpecies to which he belongs. In
like manner, with regard to the objedls of fenti«
ment or internal Tafte , the common feelings
of men carry the fame authority, and have a
title to regulate the Tafte of every individual.

But have we then, it will be faid , no other'
criterion of what is beautiful , than the appro-
bation of the majority ? Muft we colled: the-
voices of others , before we form any judgment
for ourfelves , of what deferves applaufe in Elo-
quence or Poetry ? By no means; there afe
principles of reafon and found judgment which
can be applied to matters of Tafte , as well as
to the fubjedts of fcience and philofophy,^ He
who admires or cenfures any work of genius^
is always ready, if his Tafte: be in any degree
improved , to aflign fome rcafons of his decifionc
He appeals to principles , and points out thd
grounds on which he proceeds^ Tafte is a fort
of compound power, in which the light of the"
underftanding always mingles, more or lefs^ -

with the feelings of fentiment.

But, though reafon can carry us a certairi
length in judging concerning works of Tafte 3 it

Da

36 TASTE.

L E c T. is not to be forgotten that the ultimate conclu-
II. fioffs to which our reafonings lead , refer at laft
to fenfe and perception. We may fpecujale and
argue concerning propriety of conduct in a
Tragedy , or an Epic Poem. Juft reafonings
on the fubjed; willcorred; the caprice of unen-
lightened Tafte , and eflablifli principles for
judging of what deferves praife. But, at the
fame time , thefe reafonings appeal always , in
the laft refort, to feeling. The foundation upon
•which they reft, is what has been found from
experience to pleafe mankind moft univerfally.
Upon this ground we prefer a fimple and natural,
to an artificial and affedied ftyle; a regular and
well-conneded ftory , to loofe aiid fcattered
narratives; a cataftrophe which is tender and
pathetic, to one which leaves us unmoved. It
is from confulting our own imagination and
heart, and from attending to the feelings of
others, that any principles are formed which
acquire authority in matters of Tafte*.

* The difference between the Authors who found the ftand-
darcl of Tafte upon the common feelings of human nature
afcertained by general approbation , and thofe who found it
upon eftabUfhed principles which can be afcertained by reafon,
is more an apparent than a real difference. Like many other
literary controverfies , it turns chiefly on modes of expreflion.
For they who lay the greateft fcrefs on fentiment and feeling,
make no fcruple of applying argument and reafon to matters
of Tafte. They appeal , like other writers , to eftablifhed
— principles, in judging of the excellencies of Eloquence or Poe-
try ; and plainly fhew, that the general approbation to w^hich
they ultimately recur , is an approbation refulting from difcuf-

TASTE 3jr

When wc refer to the concurring fentlments L e c t,
of men as the ultimate teft of what is to be H.
^xcounted beautiful in the arts, this is to be
always underftood of men placed in fuch fitua-
tions as are favourable to the proper exertions of
Tafte. Every one muft perceive, that among
rude and uncivilized nations, and during the
ages of ignorance and darknefs , any loofe noti-
ons that are entertained concerning fuch fubjedts '
carry no authority. In thofe flates of fociety,
Tafte has no materials on which to operate. It
is either totally fupprelTed , or appears in its
loweft and moft imperfed; form. We refer to
the fentiments of mankind in poliflied and
flourilhing nations ; when arts are cultivated and
manners refined ; when works of genius are
fub|ected to free difcuffion , and Tafte is improv-
ed by Science and philofophy.

Even among nations, at fuch a period of
fociety, I admit, that accidental caufes may

fion as well as from fentiiiient. They , on the other hand,
who , in order to vindicate Taffce from any fufpicion of being
arbitrary , maintain that it is afcertainable by the ftandard of
reafon , admit ncverthelefs , that what pleafes univerfally, muft
on that account be held to be truly beautiful ; and that no
rules or conclufions concerning objecfls of Tafte , can have any
■juft authority , if they be found to contradict the general fen-
timents of men. Thefe two fyftems , therefore, differ in
reality very little fl-om one another. Sentiment and Reafon
enter into both; and by_, allowing to each of thefe powers its
due place-, both fyftems maybe rendered confift^ent. Accord-
ingly , it is in this light that 1 have endeavoured to place the
fubjea

D z

%

SS TASTE.

J, E c T, occafionally warp the proper operations of
II. Tafte; fometimes the flate of religion , fometimes
the form of government, may for a while perr
vert it ; a licentious court may introduce a Tafte
for falfe ornaments , and dilToIute writings. The
ufage of one admired genius may procure appro-
bation for his faults , and even render them
fafhionable. Sometimes envy may have power
to bear down, for a little, produdlions of great
nierit ; while popular humour, or party fpirit,
may, at other times, pxalt to a high, though
|hort-lived , reputation , what little deferved it.
But though fuch cafual circumflances give the
appearance of caprice to the judgments of Tafte,
that appearance is eafily corrcded. In the
^ourfe of time, genuine the tafte of human nature
5iever fails to difclofe itfelf, and to gain the
afcendant over any fantaftic and corrupted modes
of Tafte which may chance to have been intro^
duced. Thefe may have currency for a while,
and miflead fuperficial judges ; but being fub-
jeded to examination , by degrees they pafs
away; while that alone remains which is found-
ed on foun4 reason , and the native feelings
pf men.

I BY no means pretend , that there is any
ftandard of Tafle, to which, in every particular
inftance , we can refort for clear and immediate
^eterminatiori. Where, indeed, is fuch a ftand-
ard to be found for deciding any of thofc
great controverfies in reafon and philofophy ,
\yhich perpetually divide mankind ? In the pre-

TASTE. 59

fent cafe , there was plainly no occafion for any L e c X-
fuch ftrid and abfolute provifion to be made. II.
In order to judge of what is morally good or
evil, of what man ought, or ought not in duty to
do , it was fit that the means of clear and precife
determination fliould be afforded us. But to
afcertain in every cafe with the utmoft exasflnefs
what is beautiful or elegant, was not at all
neceflary to the happinefs of man. And therefore
fome diverfity in feeling was here allowed to
take place ; and room was left for difcuffioa
and debate , concerning the degree of approba-
tion to which any work of genius is entitled.

The conclufion , which it is fufficient for us
to reft upon , is , that Tafte is far from being an
arbitrary principle, which is fubjed; to the fancy
of every individual , and which admits of no
criterion for determining whether it be falfe of
true. Its foundation is the fame in all human
minds. It is built upon fentiments and percepti-
ons which belong to our nature ; and which , in
general , operate with the fame uniformity as
our other intelledlual principles. When thefe
fentiments are perverted by ignorance and pre-
judice , they are capable of being re6lified by
reafon. Their found and natural ftate is ulti-
mately determined , by comparing them with
the general Tafte of mankind. Let men declaim
as much as they pleafe , concerning the caprice
and the uncertainty of Tafte , it is found , by
experience, that there are beauties, which, if
they be difplayed in a proper light, have powes

D 4

4<i taste;

L E c T. to commarfcl lading and general admiration. In
]I. every compofition , what interefts the imagination ,

and touches the heart , pleafes all ages and all
nations. There is a certain ftring , which , being
properly ftruck , the human heart is fo made
as to anfwer to it.

Hence the univerfal teftimony which the moft
improved nations ot the earth have confpired ,
throughout a long trad: oF ages , to give to
fome few works ot genius ; fuch as the Iliad of
Homer , and the jEneid of Virgil. Hence the
authority which fuch works have acquired, as
ftandards in fome degree of poetical compofition;
fmce from them we are enabled to colled; what
the fenfe of mankind is , concerning thofe beau-
ties which give them the higheft pleafure , and
"which therefore poetry ought to exhibit. Au-
thority or prejudice may, in one age or country^,
give a temporary reputation to an indifferent
|)oet, or a bad artift ; but when foreigners, or
when poflerity examine his works, his faults
are difcerned , and the genuine Tafte of human
nature appears, *' Opinionum commenta deiet
dies ; naturae judicia confirmat." Time over-
throws the illufions of opinion, but eftabiiihes
^he decifions of nature,

LECTURE III.

Criticism. — - Genius. ■ Pleasures of

Taste. --^ — Sublimity in Objects.

X ASTE, Criticifm , and Genius, are words j, e c T,'
currently employed, without diftindl ideas an- yH,
nexed to them. In beginning a courfe of Ledures
where fuch words muft often occur , it is necef-
fary to afcertain their meaning with fome preci-.
fion Having in the laft Lecture treated of Tafte,
I proceed to explain the nature and foundation
of Criticifm. True Criticifm is the application
of Tafte and of good fenfe to the feveral fine
arts. The objed; which it propofes is , to dit
tinguiih what is beautiful and what is faulty iii
every performance ; from particular inftances to
afcend to general principles ; and fo to form rules ■
or conclufions concerning the feveral kinds of
beauty in works of Genius.

The rules of Criticifm are not formed by any
indudion , a priori , as it is called ; that is , they
are not formed by a train of abftrad reafoning,
independent of fads and obfervations. Criticifm
is an art founded wholly on experience ; on the
obfervation of fuch beauties as have come near-

4t CRITICISM.

L E c T. eft to tlic ftandard which I before eftablifhed :
HI. that is, of fuch beauties as have been found to
pleafe mankind moft generally. For example ;
Ariftotle's rules concerning the unity of adion
in dramatic and epic compofition, were not rules
firft difcovered by logical reafoning , and then
applied to poetry ; but they were drawn from
the pradice of Homer and Sophocles : they were
founded upon obferving the fuperior pleafure
which we receive from the relation of an adlion
which is one and entire, beyond what we
receive from the relation of fcattered and uncon-
neded fads. Such obfervations taking their rife
at firft from feeling and experience, were found
on examination to be fo confonant to reafon ,
and to the principles of human nature, as to
pafs into eftablifhed rules, and to be conveniently
applied for judging of the excellency of any
performance. This is the moft natural account
of the origin of Criticifra.

A MASTERLY genius, it is true, will of him-
felf, untaught, compofe in fuch a manner as
Ihall be agreeable to the moft material rules of
Criticifm; for as thefe rules are founded in na-
ture, nature will often fuggeft them in pradice.
Homer, it is more than probable, was acquaints
ed with no fyftems of the art of poetry. Guided
by genius alone , he compofed in verfe a regular
ftory, which all poftcrity has admired. But this
is no argument againft the ufefulnefs of Criticifm
as an art. For as no human genius is perfed ,
there is no wnter but may receive affiflancQ

criticism; 43

from critical obfervations upon the beauties and L E c T«

faults of thofe who have gone before him. No III.

obfervatiors or rules can indeed fupply the defedl

of genius , or infpire it w^ere it is wanting. But

they may often direct it into its proper channel;

they may correct its extravagancies , and point

out to it the moft juft and proper imitation of

nature. Critical rules are defigned chiefly to

fhew the faults that ought to be avoided. To

nature we mufl: be indebted for the produdlion

of eminent beauties.

From what has been faid , we are enabled to
form a judgment concerning thofe complaints
which it has long been failiionable for petty
authors to make againft Critics and Criticifm.
Critics have been reprefented as the great abridg-
ers of the native liberty of genius ; as the
ipipofers of unnatural fhackles and bonds upon
Avriters , from whofe cruel perfecution they muft
fly to the Public , and implore its protection.
Such fupplicatory prefaces are not calculated to
give very favourable ideas of the genius of the
author. For every good writer will be pleafed
to have his work examined by the principles of
found underftanding , and true Tafte. The
declamations againft Criticifm commonly proceed
upon this fuppofition, that Critics are fuch as
judge by rule , not by feeling ; which is fo far
from being true , that they who judge after this
manner are pedants, not Critics. For all the
rules of genuine Criticifm I have fliewn to be
ultimately founded on feeling; and Tafte and

44 CRITICISM.

t E c T. Feeling are neceffary to guide us in the applica-
III. tion of thefe rules to every particular inftance.
As there is nothing in which all forts of perfons
more readily affed; to-^be judges than in works
of Tafle, there is no doubt that the number of
incompetent Critics will always be great. But
this affords no more foundation for a general
invective againft Criticifm, than the number of
bad philofophers or reafoners affords againft rea-
fon and philofophy.

An objedlion more plaufible may be formed
againft Criticifm , from the applaufe that fomc
performances have received from the Public ,
which, w^hen accurately confidered , are found
to contradid the rules eftablilhed by Criticifm.
Now, according to the principles laid down
in the laft Ledlure , the Public is the fupreme
judge to whom the laft appeal muft be made in
every work of Tafte ; as the ftandard of Taftc
is founded on the fentiments that are natural and
common to all men. But with refped; to this
we are to obferve, that the fenfe of the Public
is often too haftily judged of. The genuine
public Tafte does not always appear in the firft
applaufe given upon the publication of any new
•work. There are both a great vulgar and a
fmall, apt to be catched and dazzled \>y very
fuperficial beauties , the admiration of which in
a little time 'pafTes away : and fometimes a writer
may acquire great temporary reputation merely
by his compliance with the pafTions or prejudices,
with the party-fpirit or fuperftitious notions, that

criticism: 45

may chance to rule for a time almofl a whole L e c T,
nation. In fuch cafes, though the Pubhc may HI.
feem to praife, true Criticifm may with reafoii
condemn ; and it will in progrefs of time gain
the afcendant: for the judgment of true Criticifm,
and the voice of the Public, when once become
unprejudiced and difpaflionate , will ever coin-
cide at lafl.

Instances, I admit, there are, of fome works
that contain grofs tranfgreffions of the laws of
Criticifm, acquiring, neverthelefs, a general,
and even a lafting admiration. Such are the
plays of Shakefpeare , which, confidered as dra-
matic poems , are irregular in the higheft degree.
But then we are to remark, that they have
gained the public admiration, nDt by their being
irregular , not by their tranfgrefllons of the rules
of art , but in fpite of fuch tranfgreffions. They
poffefs other beauiies which are conformable to
jufl rules; and jhe force of thefe beauties has
been fo great as to overpower all cenfure , and
to give the Public a degree of fatisfadion fupe-
rior to the difguft arifing from their blemifhes.
Shakefpeare pleafes, not by his bringing the
tranfadlions of many years into one play ; not by
his grotefque mixtures of Tragedy and Comedy in
one piece,nor by the ftraincd thoughts, and affecied
witticifms, which he fometimes employs. Thefe we
confider as blemifhes , and impute them to the
groffnefs of the age in which he lived. But he
pleafes by his animated and mafterly leprefent-
atio^s of charaders , hy the livelinefs of his

46 CRITICISM.

L E c T. defcriptlons, the force of his fentimerits, and
III. his poffeffing, beyond all writers, the natural
language of paffion : Beauties which true Criti-
cifm no lefs teaches us to place in the higheft
rank, than nature teaches us to feel. — Thus much
it may fuffice to have faid concerning the origin,
office , and importance of Criticifm.

I PROCEED next to explain the meaning of
another term, which there will be frequent
occafion to employ in thefe Ledures ; that is,-
Genius.

Taste and Genius are two words frequently
joined together ; and therefore , by inaccurate
thinkers, confounded. They fignify however
two quite different things. The difference be-
tween them can be clearly pointed out; and it
is of importandfe to remember it. Tafte confifls
in the power of judging : Genius , in the power
of executing. One may have a confiderable
degree of Tafte in Poetry, Eloquence,' or any
of the fine arts , who has little or hardly any
Genius for compofition or execution in any of
thefe arts : But Genius cannot be found without
including Tafte alfo. Genius, therefore, deferves
to be confidered as a higher power of the mind
than Tafte. Genius always imports fomething
inventive or creative ; which does not reft in
mere fenfibility to beauty where it is perceived,
but which can, moreover, produce new beauties,
and exhibit them in fuch a manner as ftrongly to
Imprefs the minds of others. Refined Tafte

GENIUS. 4?

forms a good critic ; but Genius is farther necef- Leo t,
fary to form the poet, or the orator. III.

It is proper alfo to obferve , that Genius is
a word, which, in common acceptation, ex-
tends much farther than to the objeds of Tafte.
It is ufed to fignify that talent or aptitude which
we receive from nature , for excelling in any
one thing whatever. Thus we fpeak of a Ge-
nius for mathematics, as well as of a Genius for
poetry; of a Genius for war, for politics, or
for any mechanical employment.

This talent or aptitude for excelling in fome
one particular , is , I have faid , what we re=
ceive from nature. By art and ftudy , no doubt,
it may be greatly improved ; but by them alone
it cannot be acquired. As Genius is a higher
faculty than Tafle , it is ever, according to the
ufual frugality of nature , more limited in the
fphere of its operations. It is not uncommon to
meet with perfons who have an excellent Tafte
in feveral of the polite arts, fuch as mufic ,
poetry, painting, and eloquence ^ altogether:
But, to find one who is an excellent performer
in all thefe arts , is much more rare ; or
rather, indeed, fuch an one is not to be looked
for. A fort of Univerfal Genius , or one vvho
is equally and indifferently turned toward fevc-
ral different profeffions and arts , is not likely
to excel in any. Although there may be fome
few exceptions, yet in general it holds, that;
when the bent of the mind is wholly directed
towards fome one objed, exclufive, in a man-

4B GENIUS.

L E c T. ner , of otliers , there is the faireft profped of
in. eminence in that, whatever it be. The rays
muft converge to a point, in order to glow
intenfely. This remark 1 here chufe to make ,
on account of its great importance to young
people ; in leading them to examine with care ,
and to purfue with ardour , the current and
pointing of nature towards thofe exertions of
Genius in which they are mod likely to excel.
A Genius for any of the fine arts , as I
before obferved, always fuppofes Tafte; and
it is clear, that the improvement of Tafte will
ferve both to forward and to correct the ope-
rations of Genius. In proportion as the Tafte
of a poet, or orator, becomes more refined with
refped; to the beauties of compofition , it will
certainly affift him to produce the more finiflied
beauties in his work. Genius, however, in a
Poet or Orator, may fometimes exift in a higher
degree than Tafte; that is, Genius may be bold
and ftrong , when Tafte is neither very delicate,
nor very correct. This is often the cafe in the
infancy of arts ; a period , when Genius fre-
quently exerts itfelf with great vigour , and exe-
cutes with much warmth ; while Tafte , which
requires experience, and improves by ftower de-
grees, hath not yet attained its full growth.
Homer and Shakefpeare are proofs of what 1 now
affert ; in whofe admirable writings are found
inftances of rudenefs and indelicacy, which the
more refined Tafte of later writers, who had
far inferior Genius to them, would have taught

them

PLEASURES OF TASTE. 49

them to avoid. As all human perfedion is limit- L e c
ed , this may very probably be the law of our HI.
nature , that it is not given to one man to exe-
cute with vigour and fire, and, at the fame
time, to attend to all the leffer and m.ore refined
graces that belong to the exact perfedion of his
work: While, on the other hand, a thorough
Tafte for thofe inferior graces , is , for the moft
part, accompanied with a diminution of fubli-
mity and force.

Having thus explained the nature of Tafte,
the nature and importance of Criticifm, and the
diflindion between Tafte and Genius; I am
now to enter on confidering the fources of the
Pleafures of Tafte. Here opens a very extenfive
field; no lefs than all the pleafures of the imagi-
nation , as they are commonly called, whether
afforded us by natural objeds, or by the imita-
tions and defcriptions of them. But it is not ne-
ceffary to the purpofe of my Ledures , that all
thefe ILould be examined fully; the pleafure
which we receive from difcourfe , or writing,
being the main objed of them. All that I pur-
pofe is, to give fome openings into the Plea-
fures of Tafte in general; and to infift, more
particularly, upon Sublimity and Beauty.

We are far from having yet attained to any
fyftem concerning this fubjed. Mr. Addifon
^vas the firft v/ho attempted a regular enquiry,
in his Effay on the Pleafures of the Imagination,
publidied in the fixth volume of the Spedator.
He has reduced thefe Pleafures under three \
Vol. I. E

50 PLEASURES OF TASTE.

1 E c T. Leads; Beauty, Grandeur, and Novelty. His
III. fpeculations on this fubjedl, if not exceedingly
profound, are, however, very beautiful and
entertaining; and he has the meritof having open-
ed a tract , which was befol-e unbeaten. The
advances made fmce his time in this curious part
of philofophical Criticifm , are not very conii-
derable ; though fome ingenious writers have
purfued the fubjecT;. This is owing, doubtlefs,
to that thinnefs and fubtility which are found
to be properties of all the feelings of Tafte.
They are engaging objeds; but when we would
lay firm hold of them , and fubjed; them to a
regular difcuffion, they are always ready to elude
our grafp. It is difficult to make a full enume-
ration of the feveral objedls that give pleafure
to Tafte ; it is more difficult to define all thofe
which have been difcovered , and to reduce them
under proper clafTes 5 and , when we would go
farther, and invePcigate the efficient caufes of
the pleafure which we receive from fuch objeds,
here, above all, we find ourfelves at a lofs.
For inftance; we all learn by experience , that
certain figures of bodies appear to us more
beautiful than others. On enquiring farther, we
find that the regularity of fome figures , and the
graceful variety of others, are the foundation
of the beauty which we difcern in them ; but
when we attempt to go a ftep beyond this, and
enquire what is the caufe of regularity and va-
riety producing in our minds the fenfation of
jBeauty, any reafon %ye can affign is extremely

FLEASUPvES OF TASTE. 51

imperfedl. Tliofe firft principles of internal L e c t.
fenfation , nature feems to have covered with III.
an impenetrable veil.

It is fome comfort, however, that although
the efficient caufe be obfcure , the final caufe
of thofe fenfations lies in many cafes more open :
And , in entering on this fubjed , we cannot
avoid taking notice of the ftrong irapreffion
which the powers of Tarte and Imagination are
calculated to give us of the benignity of our
Creator. By endowing us with fuch powers,
he hath widely enlarged the fphere of the plea-
fares of human life ; and thofe , too , of a kind
the moft pure and innocent. The neceffary pur-
pcfss of life might have been abundantly an-
fwered, though our fenfes of feeing and hearing
had only ferved to diftinguifh external objedls,
without conveying to us any of thofe refined
and delicate fenfetions of Beauty and Grandeur,
with which we are now fo much delighted.
This additional embelhfhment and glory, which,
for promoting our entertainment, the Author of
nature hath poured forth upon his works, is one
ftriking teflimony , among- many others , of be«
nevoleiace and goodnefs. This thought, which
Mr. Addifon firft ftarted, Dr. Akenfide, in his
Poem on the Pleafures of the Imagination, ha$
happily purfued.

Not content

With every food of life to nourifh man,
By kind illufions of the wondering fcnfe,

E 2

5? SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS,

JL E c T. Thou m-cik'ft all nature, Beauty to his eye,
III. Or Mufic to his ear.

I SHALL begin with confidering the pleafure
which arifes from Sublimity or Grandeur , of
which I propofe to treat at fome length; both,
as this has a character more precife and diftind:ly
marked , than any other , of the Pieafures of
the Imagination , and as it coincides more di-
redly with our main fubjed:. For the greater
diftindnefs I, {hall, firft, treat of the Grandeur
or Sublimity of external objects themfelves ,
which will employ the reft of this Ledure ; and,
afterwards, of the defcription of fucli objedts, or,
of what is called the Sublime in Writing, which
fhail be the fubjed; of a following Lecture. I
diftinguifh thefe two things from one another,
the Grandeur of the objecls themfelves when
they are prefented to the eye, and the defcription
of that Grandeur in difcourfe or writing; though
moft Critics , inaccurately 1 think , blend them
together;' and I confider Grandeur and Sublimity
as terms fynonymous, or nearly fo. If there be
any diftinction between them , it arifes from Su-
blimity's expreffmg Grandeur in its higheft
degree *.

It is not eafy to defcribe, in words, the
precife impreffion which great and fublime ob-

* See a Philofophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas
of the Sublime and Beautiful. Dr. Gerard on TaHe, Section
II. Elements of Criticifm, Chap, IV.

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 55

jeds make upon us, when we behold them ; but L e c t^
every one has a conception of it. It confifts iu III.
a kind of admiration and expanfion of the mind;
it raifes the mind much above its ordinary ftate;
and fills it with a degree of wonder and afto-
■ nilliment , which it cannot well exprefs. The
emotion is certainly delightful; but is altoge-
ther of the ferious kind: a degree of awfulnefs
and folemnity , even approaching to feverity ,
commonly attends it when at its height ; jvery
diftinguilhable from the more gay and brillc
emotion raifed by beautiful objecfls.

The* fimpleft form of external Grandeur ap-
pears in thevaft and boundlefs profpeds prefent-
ed to us by nature ; fuch as wide extended
plains , to which the eye can fee no limits ; the
firmament of Heaven ; or the boundlefs expanfe
of the Ocean. All vaftnefs produces the im-
preflion of Sublimity. It is to be remarked, how-
ever, that fpace, extended in length, makes
not fo ftrong an impreffion as height or depth..
Though a boundlefs plain be a grand objecfl, yet
a high mountain, to which we look up, or
an awful precipice or tower, whence we look
down on the objedls which lie below, is flill
more fo. The exceffive Grandeur of the firma-
ment arifes from its height, joined to its bound-
lefs extent ; and that of the ocean , not from
its extent alone, but from the perpetual motion,
and iriefiftible force of that mafs of waters.
Wherever fpace is concerned , it is clear , that
amplitude or greatnefs of extent , in one dimen-

E3

54 SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

I E c T. fion or other, is neceffary to Grandeur, Removtf

IJI. all bounds from any objed, and you prefently

render it fublime. Hence infinite fpace , endlefs

numbers , and eternal duration , lill the mind

with great ideas.

From this fome have imagined , that vaft-
nefs, or amplitude of extent, is the foundation
of all Subhmity. But I c^annot be of this opi-
nion , bccaufe many objects appear fublime
which have no relation to fp'ace at all. Such^
for inftance, is great loudnefs of found. The
burft of thunder or of cannon , the roaring of
winds, the fhouting of multitudes, the found
of vaft catarafis of Yv'atar , are all inconteflibly
grand objecls. " I heard the voice of a great
/ 3j multitude, as the found of many waters, and

„ of mighty thunderings , faying Allelujah. "
In general we may obferve , that great power
and force exerted, always raife fublime ideas:
and, perhaps the nioR copious fource of thefe is
derived from this qua.rter.. Hence the grandeur
■of earthquakes and burning mountains; of great
conflagrations; of the ftormy ocean, and over-
flowing waters; of tempefts of wind; of thun-
der and lightning; and of all the uncommon vio-
lence of the elements. Nothing is more fublime
than mighty power and flrength. A ftream
that runs within its banks, is a beautiful objed;
but when it ruflies down with the impetuofity
and noife of a torrent, it prefently becomes a
-fublime one. From lions , and other animals of
ilreng^th, are draw" fublime coaiparifons in poets.

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 55

A race- horfe is looked upon v/ith pleafure; but L e c T:.
it is the war- horfe, " whofe neck is clothed ill.
55 with thunder," that carries grandeur in its
idea. The engag:ement of two great armies, as
it is the higheft exertion of human might, com-
bines a variety of fources of the Sublime ; and
has accordingly been always confidered as /one
of the moft flriking and magnificent fpeclacles
that can be either prefented to the eye, or ex-
hibited to the imagination in defcription.

For the farther illuRration of this fubjed,
it is proper to remark, that all ideas of the
folenin and awful kind, and even bordering on
the terrible, tend greatly to affift the Sublime;
fuch as darknefs, folitude , and filence. AV'hat
are the fcenes of nature that elevate the mind
in the higheft degree, and produce the fublime
fenfation ? Not the gay landfcape , the flowery
field, or the flourilliing city; but the hoary
mountain, and the fohtary lake; the aged foreft,
and the torrent falling over the rock. Hence
too, night -fcenes are commonly the moft fub-
lime. The firmament when filled with ftars ,
fcattered in fuch vaft numbers , and with fuch
magnificent profufion , ftrikes the imagination
with a more awful grandeur, than when we
view it enlightened by all the fplendour of the
Sun. The deep found of a great bell , or the
ftriking of a great clock, are at any time grand;
but, when heard amid the filence and ftillnefs
of the night , they become doubly fo. Dark-
nefs is very commonly applied for adding Su-

E4

56 SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

jt E c T. blimity to all our ideas of the Deity. " He
111. 55 maketli darknefs his pavilion ; he dwelleth in
the thick cloud. " So Milton

r ■ How oft, aniicIR:

Thick clouds and dark , does Heav'n's all-ruling Sire

Chufe to refide , his glory unobfcured ,

And , v/ith the Majefly of darknefs "round

Covers his throne^ Book II. 26 ^^

Obferve , with how much art Virgil has intro-
duced all thofe ideas of illence , vacuity, and
darknefs , when he is going to introduce his
JJ^-ro to the infernal regions , and to difclofe ths
fecrets <^^ the great deep.

Dii quibus Imper'A*^"! e^ aniniarum , umbrsque

filentes ,
Et Chaos , et Phlegefchon , loc.? node filentia late j
Sit miiii fas audita loqui ; fit numine veftro^
Pandere res ' altS terra , & Caligine merla"5.-
Ibant obfcuri , fola fub node , per umbram ,
Perque domos Ditis vacuos , et inania regna;
Q^uale per incertam lunam , fub luCe maligna

Efl; iter in fylvis *.

/
* Ye fubterranean Gods , whofe awful fway
The gliding gbofts and ftlent fhades obey;
O Chaos , hear ! and Fhlegcthon profound !
\7hofe folemn empire firetches wide around!
Give me ; ye great tremendous pov/ers ! lo tell
Of fcenes and wonders in die depths of Hell ;

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. S7

Thefe paffages I quote at prefent, not fo much L e c T.
as inftances of Sublime Writing, though in them- IlL
felves they truly are fo, as to fhew, by the
effecl of them , that the objeds which they pre-
fent to us , belong to the clafs of fubhme ones.
Obscurity, we are farther to remark, is not
unfavourable to the Sublime. Though it render
the objed; indiftind, the impreffion , however,
may be great; for, as an ingenious Author has
well obferved , it is one thing to make an idea
clear , and another to make it affecling to the
imagination ; and the imagination may be ftrongly
affedted ; and , in fadl , often is fo , by objedls of
%vhich we have no clear conception. Thus we
fee, that almoft all the defcriptions given us of
the appearances of fupernatural Beings , carry
fome Sublimity , though the conceptions which
they aiTord us be confufed and indiflind:. Their
Sublimity arifes from the ideas, which they
always convey , of fuperior power and might ,
joined with an awful obfcurity. We may fee
this fully exemplified in the following noble
paffage of the book of Job. " In thoughts from
35 the vifions of the night, when deep fieep
35 falieth upon men , fear came upon me , and

Give me your mighty fecrets to difplay ,

From thofe black realms of darknefs to the day.

Pitt.
Obfcure they went ; through dreary fhades , that led
Along the wafte dominions of the dead
As wander travellers in woods by night,
By the moon's doubtful and malignant light.

Dryden.

5S SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

L E c T. n trembling which made all my bones to fliake.

HI. 53 Then a fpirit palled before my face ; the

j5 hair of my fiefli flood up: it flood ftill; but

55 I could not difcern the form thereof ; an

55 image was before mine eyes; there was filence:

55 and 1 heard a voice Shall mortal man be

„ more juft than God *? " (Job , iv. 15.)
No ideas , it is plain, are fo fublime as thofe
taken from the Supreme Being; the moft un-
known , but the greateft of all objeds ; the in-
finity of whofe nature, and the eternity of whofe
duration, joined with the omnipotence of his
power, though they furpafs our conceptions, yet
exalt .them to the higheft. In general, all objeds
that are greatly, raifed above us , or far removed
from us , either in fpace or in time , are apt to
Pi-rike us as great. Our viev/ing them, as through
the mill of diftance or antiquity, is favourable
to the impreliions of their Sublimity.

As obfcurity, fo diforder too, is very com-
pa,tible with grandeur; nay, frequently heightens

* The picture which Lucretius has drawn of the domi-
nion of fuperftition over mankind, reprefenting it as a
portentous fpedre fliowing its head from the clouds , and
difmaying the whole human race with its countenance ,
together with the magnanimity of Epicurus in raifmg him-
felf up againjR: it , carries all the grandeur of a fublime ,
obfcure, and awful image.

Humana ante oculos fcede cum vita jaceret

In terris , oppreffa gravi fub religione ,

Q^UcC caput a cceli regionibus olfendebat,

Horribih fuper afpeclu mortalibus inflans ,

Primum Graius homo mortales toilere contra

Ell oculos aufus. Lib. I.

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 59

it. Few things that are {Iriclly regular , and L e c T-
methodical , appear fiiblime. We fee the limits UI-
on every fide; we feel ourfelves confined; there
is no room for the mind's exerting any great
effort. Exadl proportion of parts, though it
enters often into the beautiful , is much difre-
garded in the Sublime. A great mafs of rocks ,
thrown together by the hand of nature with
^Yi]dnefs and confufion, flrike the mind witl^
more grandeur, than if they had been adjufted
to each other with the mofi; accurate fymmetry.

In the feeble attempts , which human art can
make towards producing grand objedls (feeble,
I mean , in com.parifon with the powers of na-
ture), greatnefs of dimenfions always conftitutes
a principal part. No pile of building can convey
any idea of Sublimity , unlefs it be ample and
lofty. There is, too, in archite6ture, what is
called Greatnefs of manner; which feems chiefly
to arife, from prefenting the objed; to us in one
full point of view; fo that it fhall make its im-
preffion whole, entire, and undivided, upon the
mind. A Gothic cathedral raifes ideas of gran-
deur in our minds > by its fize , its height , its
awful obfcurity, its firength, its antiquity, and
its durability.

There flill rem.ains to be mentioned one clafs
of Sublime Objecls ; what m.ay be called the
moral , or fentimental Sublime ; ariHng from
exertions of the human mind ; from certain af-
fev^Ions, and actions , of our fellow- creatures.
Thefe \Yill be found to be all, or chiefly, of

6o SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

1/ E c T. that clafs , which comes under the name of
HI. Magnanimity or Heroifm ; and they produce an
effeft extremely fimilar to what is produced by
the view of grand objeds in nature ; filling the
mind with admiration, and elevating it above it-
felf, A noted inftance of this, quoted by all the
French Critics , is the celebrated i^)u'il Mourut of
Corneille , in the Tragedy of Horace. In the
famous combat betwixt the Horatii and the
Curiatii, the old Horatius, being informed, that
two of his fons are flain , and that the third had
betaken himfelf to flight, at firft will not believe
the report; but being thoroughly allured of the
fad , is fired with all the fentiments of high
honour and indignation at this fuppofed unworthy-
behaviour of his furviving fon. He is reminded,
that this fon ftood alone againft three , and
afked what he would have had him to have
done ? — " To have died , — he anfwers. In the
fame manner Porus, taken prifoner by Alexander,
after a gallant defence , and afked in what man-
ner he would be treated? anfwering, " Like a
J, King; " and Csefar chiding the pilot who was
afraid to fet out with him in a ffcorm , " Quid
j5 times ? Csefarem vehis ; " are good inftances of
this fentimental Sublime. Wherever , in fome
critical and high fituation , we behold a man
uncommonly intrepid, and refting upon himfelf;
fuperior to paffion and to fear; animated by forae
great principle to the contempt of popular
opinions, of felfifh interell, of dangers, or of

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 6i

death ; there we are ftruck with a fenfe of the Leg t,
Subhme *. HI.

High virtue is the moft natural and fertile
fource of this moral Subliinity. ffowever on
fome occafions, where Virtue either has no place,
or is but imperfedly difplayed , yet if extr.^. ordi-
nary vigour and force of mind be difcovered,
we are not infenfible to a degree of grandeur in
the charader; and from the fplendid conqueror,
or the daring confpirator , whom we are far
from approving, we cannot with-hold our ad-
miration **.

* The Sublime , in natural and in moral objeds , is
brought before us in one view , and compared together ,
in the following beautiful paffage of Akenfide's Pleafure?
of the Imagination :

Look then abroad through nature ; to the range

Of planets , funs , and adamantine fpheres ,

"Wheeling , unfhaken , thro' the void immenfe ;

And fpeak , O man ! does this capacious fcene >

"With half that kindhng majelly , dilate

Thy ftrong conception , as when Brutus rofe ,

Refulgent , from the ftroke of Ccefar's fate ,

Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his arm

Aloft extending , like eternal Jove ,

When guilt brings down the thunder , call'd aloud

On Tully's name , and fhook his crimfon fteel ,

And bade the father of his country hail!

For lo ! the tyrant proftrate on the dull; -

And Rome again is free. Book I.

** Silius Italicus has ftudied to give an anguft idea of
Hannibal , by reprefenting him as furrounded with all his
vidories , in the place of guards. One Avho had formed
a clefign of affaffinating him in the niidft of a feaft , is
thus addi-elTed:

6^ SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

t E c T. I HA.VE now enumerated a variety of inftanccs,
III. both in inanimate objects and in human life ,
wherein the Sublime appears. In all thefe in-
ftances, the emotion raifed in us is of the fame
kind , although the objects that produce the
emotion be of widely different kinds. A queftion
next arifes , whether we are able to difcover
fome one fundamental quality in which all thefe
different objedls agree, and which is the caufe of
their producing an emotion of the fame nature
in our minds ? Various hypothefes have been
formed concerning this; but, as far as appears
to me , hitherto unfatisfadlory. Some have ima-
gined that amplitude, or great extent, joined
with fimplicity, is either immediately, or remote-
ly , the fundamental quality of whatever is
Sublime ; but v/e have feen that amplitude is

Fallit te , meiifas inter quod credis inermem ;
Tot bellis quccfita viro , tot cadibus , arniat
Majeftas seterna ducem. Si adinoveris era
Carinas , & Trebiam ante oculos , Trafymenaque bufta
Et Pauli ilare ingentem miraberis umbram.

A thought fomewhat of the fame nature occurs in a French
author , " II fe cache ; mais fa reputation le decouvre : II
''"'■ marche fans fuite & fans equipage ; mais chacun , dans
*•' fon efprit , le met fur un char de triomphe. On compte
" en le voiant, les ennemis qu'il a vaincus , non pas les
^' ferviteurs qui le fuivent. Tout feul qu'il eit , on fe
'' figure , autour de lui , fes vertus , & fes vidroires qui
" Taccompagnent. Moins il eft fuperbe , plus il devient
^' venerable. 55 Oraifon funebce de M. de Turenne , par M.
Flechier — Both thefe paffages are fplendid , rather than
fublinie. In the firft there is a want of juftnefs in the
thought ; in thefecond, of fimplicity in the exprefllon.

SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 6

confined to one fpecies of Sublime Objedl? ; and L e c T.
cannot, without violent ftraining, be applied to III.
them all. The Author of " a Philofophical Enquiry
35 into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime
33 and Beautiful , " to whom we are indebted for
feveral ingenious and original thoughts upon this
fubjed , propofes a formal theory upon this
foundation, 1 hat terror is the fource of the Su-
blime, and that no obiecls have this charader,
but fuch as produce impreffions of pain and
danger. It is indeed true , that many terrible
cbjecls are highly fublime; and that grandeur
does not refufe an alliance with the idea of
danger. But though this is very properly illuf-
trated by the Author (many of whofe fentiments
on that head I have adopted), yet he feems to
Rretch his theory too far, when he reprefents
the Sublime as conufting wholly in modes of
danger , or of pain. For the proper fenfation of
Sublimity, appears to be very diftinguifhable
from the fenfation of either of thofe; and, on
feveral occafions, to be entirely feparated from
them. In many grand objeds, there is no
coincidence with terror at all; as in the mag-
nificent profpedl of vvide extended plains, and of
the fiarry firmament; or in the moral difpofiti-
ons and fentiments, which we viev/ with high
admiration; and in many painful and terrible
objeds alfo, it is clear, there is no fort of gran-
deur. The amputation of a limb , or the bite of
a fnake , are exceedingly terrible ; but are defti-
tute of all claim wh*itever to Sublimity. I lun.

V 64 SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS.

L E c T. inclined to think , that mighty force or power ,
III. whether accompanied with terror or not, whe-
ther employed in protedling, or in alarming us,
has a better title, than any thing that has yet
been mentioned, to be the fundamental quality
of the Sublime; as, after the review which we
have taken, there does not occur to me any
Sublime Obje<fl, into the idea of which, power,
ftrength, and force, either enter not diredly, or
are not, at leaft, intimately affociated with the
idea, by leading our thoughts to fome aflonifhing
power , as concerned in the produdiion of the
objed:. However , I do> not infift upon this
as fufficient to found a general theory : It is
enough , now , to have given this view of the
nature and different kinds of Sublime Objeds ;
by which I hope to have laid a proper founda-
tion for difcuffing, with greater accuracy, the
Sublime in Writing and Compofition.

LEG-

JL E C T U R E IV*

imumiitmi

"tUE SUBLIME IN WRITING.

.AVING treated of Grandeur or Sublimity t E c T.
in external objeds , the way feems now to be Xy.
cleared, for treating, with more advantage, o£
the defcription of fueh objeds ; or, of what is
called the Sublime in Writing. Though it may
appear early to enter on the corifideration of
this'fubjed; yet, as the Sublime is a fp:cies of
Writing which depends lefs than any other on
the artificial embellilL merits of rhetoric, it may
be examined with as miich propriety here, as
in any fubfequent part of thefe Ledlures,

Many critical terms have unfortunately been
employed, in a fenfe too loofe and vague; riond
more fo, than that of .the Sublime. Every one
is acquainted with the character of Csefar's
Commentaries, and of the ftvle in which they
are written; a ftyle remarkably pure, fimple^
and elegant; but the mofk remote from the
Sublime, of any of the claffical authors^ Yet
this author has a German critic, Johannes Guliel-
nius Bergerus, who wrote no longer ago than
Vol. I. F

66 SUBLIMITY KnF WRITING.

X E c T. the year 1^20, pitched upon as the perfed model
IV. of the Sublime , and has compofed a quarto
volume, entitled, De nafurali pulchitudinc O'a-
tionis ; the exprefs intention of which , is to
fliew, that Csefar's Commentaries contain the
mofl complete exemplification of all Longinus's
rules relating to Sublime Writing. This I men-
tion as a ftrong proof of the confufed ideas
which have prevailed, concerning this fubjed.
The true fenf^ of Sublime Writing, undoubt-r
edly , is fuch a defcription of objecfts , or exhi-
bition of fentiments, which are in themfelves of
a Sublime nature , as fliall give us ftrong im-
preffions of them. But there is another very-
indefinite, and therefore very improper, fenfe,
which has been too often put upon it; when
it is applied to fignify any remarkable and
diftinguilhing excellency of compofition; whether
it raife in us the ideas of grandeur, or thofe of
gentlenefs, elegance, or any other fort of beauty.
In this fenfe, Csefar's Commentaries may, indeed,
be termed Sublime , and fo may many Sonnets ,
Paftorals , and Love Elegies , as well as Homer's
Iliad. But this evidently confounds the ufe of
"Words ; and marks no oqe fpecies , or charader,
of compofition whatever.

I Aivi forry to be obliged to obferve, that the
Sublime is too often ufed in this laft and im-
proper fenfe, by the celebrated critic Longinus,
in his treatife on this fubjed;. He fets out,
indeed , with defcribing it in its juft: and proper
meaning ; as foraeching that elevates the mind

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 67

albbve itfelf, and fills it with high conceptions, Leu t*
and a noble pride. But from this view of it he IVj
frequently departs ; and fucflitutes in the place
of it, whatever, in any ftrain of compofition,
pleafes highly. Thus , many of the pafHiges
\vhich he produces as inflances of the Sublime^
are merely elegant, without having the moft
diftant relation to proper Sublimity; witnefs Sap-
pho's famous Ode^ on which he defcants at
confiderable length. He points out five fources
of the Sublime. The firft is , Boldnefs or Gran-
deur in the Thoughts ; the fecond is, the Pa-
thetic j the third , the proper application of Fi-
gures; the fourth, the ufe of Tropes and
beautiful expreffions; the fifth, MuQcal Struclure
and Arrangement of Wordsi This is the plari
of one who was writing a treatife of rhetoric,
or of the beauties of Writing in general ; not of
the Sublime in particular. For of thefe five
heads , only the two firft have any peculiar
xelation to the Subhme; Boldnefs and Grandeur
in the Thoughts, and, in forne inftances , the
Pathetic , or ftrbng exef tipns of Paffion : The
other three, Tropes, Figures, and Muucal
Arrangement, have no more relatiori to the
Sublime, than to other kinds of good Writing;
perhaps lefs to the Sublime than to any othef
fpecies whatever ; becaUfe it requires lefs the
affiftance of ornam.ent. From this it appears,
that clear and precife ideas on this head ate not
to be expedled from that wtiter. I would not^
^lowever, be imderftood, as if I meant, by this

F a

68 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

L E c T. ccnfare, to reprefent his treatife as of fmall value,
IV, I know no critic, ancient or modern, that dif-
covers a more lively relilh of the beauties of fine
writing, than L>onginus ; and he has alfo, the
merit of being himfelf an excellent, and, in fe-
veral paffages ^ a truly SubHme, writer. But, a*
iiis work has been generally confidered as a
ftandard on this fubjecl , it was incumbent on
me to give my opinion coLcerning the benefit
to be derived from it. h deferves to be con-
fulted , not fo much for diftind inftrudion con-
cerning the Sublime , as for excellent general
ideas^ concerning beauty in writing.

I RETURN now to the proper and natural idea
of the Sublime in compofition. The foundation
of it muft always be laid in the nature of the
objed: defcribed. Unlefs it be fuch an objed as,
if prefented to our eyes, if exhibited to us in
reality, would raife ideas of that elevating, that
awful, and magnificent kind , which we call
Sublime ; the defcription , however finely drawn,
is not entitled to come under this clafs. This ex-
cludes all objeds that are merely beautiful , gay,
or elegant. In the next place , the objed muft
not only, in itfelf, be Sublime, but it muft be
fet before us in fuch a light as is moft proper to
give us a clear and full impreffion of it; it muft
be defcribed with ftrength, with concifenefs, and
fimplicity. This depends, principally, upon the
lively impreffion which the poet, or orator has
of the objed which he exhibits ; and upon his
being deeply affeded, and warmed, by the Su-

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 69

t)lime idea which he would convey. If his own L e c t,
feeling be languid , he can never infpire us with IV.
any ftrong emotion. Inftances, which are ex=?
tremely neceflary on this fubjed, will clearly
fhow the importance of all thofe requifites which
I have juft now mentioned.

It is, generally fpeaking, among the moft
ancient authors, that we are to look for the moft
ftriking inftances of the Sublime. 1 am incHned
to think , that the early ages of the world , and
the rude unimproved flate of fociety , are pecu-
liarly favourable to the ftrong emotions of Subli-^
piity. The genius of men is then much turned
to adm.iration and aftonifhment. Meeting with
many objects, to them new and ftrange, their
imagination is kept glowing, and their paflions
are often raifed to the utmoffe. They think, and
exprefs themfelves boldly , and without reftraint.
In the progrefs of fociety, the genius and man?
ners of men undergo a change more favourable
to accuracy, than to ftrength or Sublimity.

Of all writings, ancient or modern, the Sacred
Scriptures afford us the higheft inftances of the
Sublime. The defcriptions of the Deity , in ^

them, are wonderfully noble; b.th from th.^
grandeur of the objed, and the manner of re-
prefenting it. What an affemblage, for inftance,
of awful and fublime ideas is prefented to us ,
in that paffage of the XVlIIth Pfalm, where an
•appearance of the Almighty is defcribed ? '' In
35 my diftrefs I called upon the Lord , he heard
53 my voice out of his temple , and my cry came

F 3

70 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

I; E c T« 35 before him. TJben , the earth Ilhook and trem-

IV. 53 bled : the foundations alfo of the hills were

55 moved , becaufe he was wroth. He bowed

55 the heavens , and came down , and darknefs

1 55 was under his feet; and he did ride upon

33 a Cherub, and did fly; yea, he did fly upon
35 the wmgs of the wind. He made darknefs
35 his fecret place ; his pavilion round about
3^ him were dark waters . and thick clouds of
33 the fl<Y-" Here, agreeably to the principles
pftabliflieci in the laft Lecture , we fee , with
>vhat propriety and fuccefs the circumftances of
darknefs and terror are applied for heightening
the Sublime. So, alfo, the prophet Habakkuk,
in a fimilar paffage: "He flood, and meafured
33 the earth; he beheld, and drove afunder the
33 nations. The everlafting mountains were
^ fcattered ; the perpetual hills did bow; his
33 ways are everlafling. The mountains faw
35 thee; and they trembled. The overflowing of
33 the \yater paiTed by. The deep uttered his
33 voice, and lifted up his hands on high."

THfe noted inftance, given by Longinus, from
Mofes-, "God faid, let there be light; and there
35 was light," is not liable to the cenfure which
I paffed on fome of his inftances, of being fo-
reign to the fubjedt. It belongs to the true Su-
blime; a,nd the Sublimity of it arifes from the
flrong conception it gives, of an exertion of
power jjroducing its effect with the utmoft
fpeed and facility. A thought of the fame kind
is magnificently amplified in the following paf.

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. ^t

fage of Ifaiaii (chap. xxiv. 24. 27. 28.)' "Thus L e c t.
35 faith the Lord, thy Redeemer, and he that IV,
53 formed thee from the womb : I am the Lord
33 that maketh all things , that ftretcheth forth
33 the heavens alone, that fpreadeth abroad the
33 earth by myfelf— that faith to the deep , Be
35 dry , and I will dry up thy rivers ; that faith
35 of Cyrus, He is my fhepherd, and fhall per-
3, form all my pleafure ; even, faying to Jerufa-
35 lem , Thou flialt be built ; and to the Tem-
35 pie , Thy foundation {hall be laid." There is
a paffage in the Ffalms, which deferves to be
mentioned under this head : " God ," fays
the Pfalmift, " ftilleth the noife of the feas,
55 the noife of their waves, and the tumults of
,5 the people." The joining together two fuch
grand objedls , as the ragings of the v/aters , and
the tumults of the people, between which there
is fo much refemblance as to form a very natur-
al aUociation in. the fancy, and the reprefenting
them both as fubjecl, at one moment, to the
command of God, produces a noble effect.

Homer is a poet, who, in all ages, and by
all critics, has been greatly admired for Subli-
mity; and he owes much of his grandeur to that
native and unaffcvfted fimphcity which characT;er-
ifes his manner. His def:riptions of hofts engag-
ing; the animation, the fire, and rapidity, which
he throws into his battles , prefent to every
reader of the Iliad, frequent inftances of Sublime
Writing. His introduction of the Gods , tends
often to heighten, in a high degree, the majefty

F 4

n SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

1. B c T. of his warlike fcenes. Hence Longinus beftows
IV. fuch high and jufk commendations on that
pafiage , in the XV th book of the Ihad , where
Neptune , when preparing to iffue forth into
the engagement , is defcribed as Ihaking the
mountains with his fteps, and driving his chariot
along the ocean. Minerva armmg herfeif for
fight in the Vth bo^k, and Apollo, in the
XVth, leading on the Troans, and flafhing
terror with his jEgis on the face of the Greeks,
are fimilar infl:ances of great SubUmity added to
the defcription of battles , by the appearances of
thofe celeftial beings. In the XXth book, where
all the Gods take part in the engagement ,
according as they feverally favour either the
Grecians, or the Trojans, the poet feems to put
forth one of his higheft efforts , and the defcrip-
tion rifes into the moft awful magnificence. All
nature is reprefented as in commotion; Jupiter
thunders in the heavens ; Neptune ftrikes the
earth with his Trident; the ihips, the city, and
the mountains fhake ; the earth trembles to its
centre ; Pluto flarts from his throne , in dread
left the fecrets of the infernal region fhould be
laid open to the view of mortals. The pafTage
|s worthy of being inferted.

Ave £>'' "Af>ij It? f&j^iv, iKy.v.^ Xy.Xu7ri hoi , •—
'T'^'ohv' aivK.ij iv-oh JJoTiicatiov irivK^e

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. ^3

Tioivng ^' IffTzlovro tto^s^ TroXvTridxxi^ ' Idnj , L E C T»

Touocy avappjj'lsie IIoTSidosaiy £vo(r('%56JV ?
OImx ^5 ^vjiroT'cr* xa< cUSoiVKTOta-i 'inxvityi

' ToVcOf KfOC XTvVsj WfTO ^fOIV t-^idl ^VVIOVTMV *.

Iliad, 20. 47. &c.

The works of Oflian {as I have elfewherc
lliewn) abound with examples of the. Sublime.
The fubjefls of that Author, and the . manner
in which he writes, are particularly favourable
to it. He poffefTes all the plain and venerable ,^

manner of the ancient times. He deals in no
fuperfluous or gaudy ornaments ; but throws
forth his images with a rapid concifenefs, which
enables them to flrike the mind with the greateft;
force. Among poets of more polifhed times,
we are to look for the graces of correcfl writing,
for juft proportion of parts , and fldlfully con-
du(5led narration. In the midft of fmiling fcenery
and pleafurable themes, the gay and the beauti-
ful will appear, undoubtedly, to more advan-
tage. But amidft the rude fcenes of nature and

* But when the powers defcending fwelled the tignt ,
Then tumult rofe , fierce rage , and pale affright ;
'Now through the trembling fhores Minerva calls ,
And now fhe thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars , hov'ring o'er his Troy , his terror fhrouds
In gloomy tempeii's , and a night of clouds ;
Now through , each Trojan heart he fury pours ,
With voice divine , from Ilion's topmoft towers — — «-
Above J the Sire of Gods his thunder rolls.
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles ;

^4 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

L E c T. of fociety, fuch as Ofiian defcribes ; amidft rocks,
XV. and torrents, and whirlwinds, and battles, dwells
the Sublime; and naturally affociates itfelf with
that grave and folemn fpirit which diftinguifiies
the Author of Fingal. " As autumn's dark
5, ftorms pour from two echoing hills, fo toward
35 each other approached the heroes. As two
35 dark ftreams from high rocks meet and mix,
„ and roar on the plain ; loud, rough, and dark,
J, in battle, met Lochlin and Inisfail: chief
3, mixed his ftrokes with chief, and man with
5j man. Steel clanging founded on fteel. Helmets
3, are cleft on high; blood burfts, and fmokes
5, around. As the troubled noife of the ocean
„ when roll the waves on high ; as the laffe
5, peal of the thunder of heaven ; fuch
,, is the noife of battle. The groan of the
„ people fpread over the hills. It was like the
g, thunder of night, when the cloud, burfts on

Beneath , fteni Neptune fluakes the folid ground ,
The forefts wave , the mountains ' nod around ;
Through all her funimits tremble Ida's woods ,
And from their fources boil her hundred floods :
Troy's turrets totter on the rucking plain.
And the tofs'd navies beat the heaving main:
Deep in the difmal region of the dead ,
Th'infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head.
Leapt from his throne , left Neptune's arm fliould lay
His dark dominions open to the day ;
And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes ,>
Abhorr'd by men , and dreadful ev'n to Gods.
Such wars th'iinmortals wage ; fuch horrors rend.
The world's vaft concave, when the Gods Contend,

£0PE.

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. t^

,, Gona , and a thoufand gliofts ftiriek at once I, e c T.
„ on the hollow wind." Never were images of IV.'
more awful Sublimity employed to heighten the
terror of battle,

I HAVE produced thefe inftances , in order to
demonftrate how effential . concifenefs and fim-
plicity are to Sublime Writing. Simplicity, I place
in oppofition to fludied and profufe ornament;
and concifenefs , to fuperfluous expreffion. The
reafon why a defect , either in concifenefs. or
fimplicity, is hurtful in a peculiar manner to the
Sublime, I Ihall endeavour to explain. The
emotion occafioned in the mind by fome great
or noble objed;, raifes it confiderably above its
ordinary pitch. A fort of enthufiafm is produced,
extremely agreeable while it lafts ; but from
which the mind is tending every moment to fall
down into its ordinary fituation. Now, when
an author has brought us , or is attempting to
bring us, into this Hate; if he multiplies word?
unneceffarily, if he decks the • Sublime obje<fl
which he prefents to us, round and round, with
glittering ornaments; nay, if he throws in any
one decoration that fmks in the leaft below the
capital image, that moment he alters the key;
he relaxes the teniion of the mind ; the ftrength
of the feeling is emafculated; the Beautiful may
remain , but the Sublime is gone. — When Julius
Csefar faid to the Pilot who was afraid to put to
fea with him in a ftorm, "Quid times? Cccfarera
„ vehis;" we are ftruck with the daring magna-
nimity of one relying with fuch confidence on

f^ SUBLIMITY IN WRITING;

H E C T. hi^ caufe and his fortune. Thefe few words
iV. convey every thing neceffary to give us the
innprefiion full. Lucan refolved to amplify and
adorn the thought. Obferve how every time he
twifts it round, it departs farther from the Su-*
blinie , till it end at laft in tumid declamation.

Sperne minas , inquit , pelagi , ventoque furenti
Trade fmum : Italiam , fi , cxbIo auiflore , recuGis ,
Me , pete. Sola tibi caufa hasc eft jufta timoris
Vidoi-em non noffe tuum; quern numina nunquamt
peftituunt ; de quo male tunc Fortuna meretur
Cum poft vota venit. Medias perrumpe procellas
Tutela fecure mea. Coeli ifte fretique
J^on puppis noftrse labor eft. Hanc Csfare prefTatti
A fludtu defendet onus ; nam proderit undis

Ifte ratis. — Quid tanta ftrage paratur

Ignoras? quasrit pelagi ccElique tumults

Quid praeftet fortuna mihi. * • — Phars. V. ^7g.

On account of the great importance of

* But Caefar ftill fuperior to diftrefs,
Fearlefs and confident of fure fuccefs ,

Thus to the pilot loud: The feas defpifej

And the vain tbreat'^ning of the noify fkies ;

Though Gods deny thee yon Aufonian -ftrand ,

Yet go, I charge you, go, at my command,

Thy ignorance alone can caufe thy fears ,

Thou know'il: not what a freight thy vefTel bears^

Thou know'ft not I am he to whom'tis given ,

Never to want the care of watchful heaven.

Obedient fortune waits my humble thrall,

And always ready, comes before I call.

Xet winds , and feas , loud wars at freedom wage ,

And wafte upon themfeives their empty rage ,

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 77

•fimpllcity and concifenefs , I conceive rhyme , in L e c T-
Engiifli verfe , to be , if not inconfiftent with IV.
the Subh'me , at leaft very unfavourable to it.
The conftrained elegance of this kind of verfe,
and ftudied fmoothnefs of the founds, anfwering
regularly to each other at the end of the line,
though they be quite confiftent with gentle
emotions, yet weaken the native force of Su-
blimity; befides , that the fuperfluous words
which the poet is often obliged to introduce , ia
order to fill up the rhyme , tend farther to
enfeeble it. Homer's defcription of the nod of
Jupiter, as fhaking the heavens, has been admired,
in all ages , as highly Sublime. Literally tranflat-
ed, it runs thus : '" He fpoke, and bending his
„ fable brows, gave the awful nod; while he
5, fhook the celeftial locks of his .immortal head,
„ all Olympus was fhaken." Mr, Pope txanf-
lates it thus :

He fpoke ; and awful bends his fable prows ,
Shakes his anibrofial curls , and gives the nod ,
Tbe ftamp; of fate , and fandion of a God.
High Heaven with trembling the dread fignal took ,
And all Olympus to its centre fhook.

A ftronger, mightier Daemon is thy friend,
Thou , and thy bark , on Csfar's fate depend.
Thou Itand'ft amaz'd to view this dreadful fcene ,
And wonder 'ft what the Gods and Fortune mean , ,
But artfully -their bounties thus they raife ,
And from my danger arrogate new praife :
Aniidft the fears of death they bid me live,
And Hill enhance what they are fure to give.

RowE.

>t8 sublimity in WRITlNa

Leg t. The image is fpread diit, and attempted id
IV. be beautified; but it is, in truth, weakened.
The third hne — " The ftamp of fate , and fanc-
« tion of a God," is merely expletive; and in-
troduced for no other reafon but to fill up the
rhyme; for it interrupts the defcription, and
closrs the image. For the fame reafon j out of
mere compliance with the rhyme, Jupiter is re-
prefented as lliaking his locks before he gives
the nod, — " Shakes his arabrofial curls, and gives
„the nod," which is trifling, and without mean-^
ing. Whereas, in the original, the hair of his
head ihaken, is the effect of his nod, and makes
a happy pidurefque circumftance in the de-
fcription '^.

The boldnefs, freedom, and variety of our
blank verfe, is infinitely more favourable than
rhyme, to all kinds of Subhme poetry. The
fulleft proof of this is afforded by Milton ; an
author, whofe genius led him eminently to the
Sublime. The whole firft and fecond books of
Paradife Loft, are continued inftances of it. Take
only, for an example, the following noted
defcription of Satan, after his fall, appearing afc
the head of the infernal hofts:

— . He, above tli,e reft, •

In fl-iape and geflure proudly eminent.

Stood like a tower : his form had not yet loft

* See Webb on the Beauties of Poetfy.

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 79

All her original brightnefs , nor appeared L E c T.

Lefs than archangel ruined ; and the excefs « IV.

Of glory obfcured : As when the fan, new rifen.

Look's through the horizontal mifty air ,

Sliorn of his beams ; or , from behind , the moon 3

In dim eclipfe , difaftrous twilight fheds

On half the nations , and with fear of change

Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd fo , yet fhone

Above them all th' Archangel.

Here concur a variety of fources of tlie Sublime:
The principal objed eminently great; a high
fuperior nature, fallen indeed, but eredling it-
felf againft diftrefs ; the grandeur of the princi-
pal objed; heightened , by affociating it with fo
noble an idea as that of the fun fuffering an
eclipfe ; this pidlure fliaded with all thofe images of
change and trouble, of darknefs and terror,
^which coincide fo finely with the Sublime emo-
tion; and the whole expreffed in a ftyle and
verfification, eafy, natural, and fimple, but
magnificent.

I HAVE fpokcn of fimplicity and concifenefs,
as effential to Sublime Writing. In my general
defcription of it, I mentioned Strength , as an-
other necelTary requifite. Tlie Strength of de-
fcription arifes, in a great meafure , from a fimple
concifenefs ; but , it fuppofes alfo foraething
more; namely, a proper choice of circumftan-
ces in the defcription, fo as to exhibit the ob-
jed in its full and moft ftriking point of view.

go SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

t E c T. For every objed has feveral faces , fo to fpeakj
IV. by Avhich it may be prefented to us , according
to the circumftances with which we furround
it ; and it will appear eminently Sublime , or
not, in proportion as all thefe circumftances are
happily chofen , and of a Sublime kind. Here
lies the great art of the writer; and indeed, the
great difficulty of Sublime defcription^ If the
defcription be too general , and divefted of
circumftances , the objedl appears in a faint
light ; it makes a feeble impreffion , or no im-
preflion at all, on the reader. At the fame time,
if any trivial or improper circumftances are min-
gled , the whole is degraded.

A STORM or tempeft, for iriftance , is a Su*
blime objedl in nature. But, to render it Su-
blime in defcription, it is not enough, either to
give us mere general expreffions concerning the
violence of the tempeft, or to defcribe its com-
mon, vulgar effeds, in overthrowing trees and
houfes. It muft be painted with fuch circumftan-
ces as fill the mind with great and awful ideas.
This is very happily done by Virgil in th6
following paffage;

Ipfe Pater , media nimborum in node , corufca
Fulmina molitur dextra^ quo maxima motu
Terra tremit ; fugere fers ; & mortalia corda ^
Per gentes humilis ftravit pavor ; Ille , flagranti
Aut Atho , aut Rhodopen , aut alta Cerauriia telo
Dejicit* — :: Georg. I,

* The Father of tlie Gods his glory flirouds ^

Every

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 8i

Every circumflance i'n this noble defcription L e c t.
is the produdlion of an imagination heated and IV.
aftoniihed with the grandeur of the objed. If
there be any defed;, it is in the words immedia-
tely following thofe I have quoted; "Ingeminant
*' Anflri, et denfiffimus imber; " where the tranfi-
tion is made too haftily , I am afraid , from the pre-
ceding Sublime images, to a thick Ihower, and
the blowing of the fonth wind; and fhews how
difficult it frequently is , to defcend with graces
without feeming to fall.

The high importance of the rule which I have
been now giving, concerning the proper choice
of circumftances, when defcription is meant to
be Sublime, feems to me not to have been fuffi-
ciently attended to. It has, however, fuch a
foundation in nature, as renders the leaft deflex-
ion from it fatal. When a writer is aiming at the
beautiful only, his defcriptions may have impro-
prieties in them , and yet be beautiful ftill. Some
trivial, or misjudged circumftances, can be over-

Invoiv'd in tempells , and a night of clouds ;
And from the middle darknefs flafhing out.
By fits he deals his fiery bolts about.
Earth feels the motions of her angry God , ■%
Her intraiis tremble , and her mountains nod, i.
And Hying beails in forefts feek abode. J

Beep horror feizes every human breafl;
- Their pride is humbled , and their fears confeft ;
"While he , from high his rolling thunders throws j
And fires the mountains witli repeated blows ;
The rocks are from their old foundations rent ;
The winds redouble, and the rains augment.

Vol. L G

Sa SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

ii E C T. looked by the reader , they make only the dlffer-
IV. ence of more or lefs ; the gay, or pleafing emo-
tion, which he has railed, fubfifts ftill. But the
cafe is quite different with the Sublime. There,
one trifling circumflance , one mean idea, is fuffi^
cient to deftroy the whole charm. This is owing
to the nature of the emotion aimed at by Sublime
defcription, which admits of no mediocrity, and
cannot fubfift in a middle ftate ; but muft either
liighly tranfport us, or, if unfuccefsful in the exe-
cution , leave us greatly difgufted , and difpleaf-
ed : We attempt to rife along with the writer j
the imagination is awakened, and put upon the
ftretch; but it requires to be fupported; and if,
in the midft of its effort, you defert it unexpect-
edly, down it comes with a painful fhock. When»
Milton , in his battle of the angels , defcribes
them as tearing up the mountains, and throwing
them at one another; there are, in his defcrip-
tion, as Mr. Addifon has obferved , no circum*
ftances but what are properly Sublime :

From their foundations loosning to and fro.
They pluck'd the feated hills , with all their load ^
Rocks , waters , woods ; and by the fhaggy tops
Up-lifting, bore them in their hands.——

Whereas Claudian , in a fragme \t upon the war
of the giants , has contrived to render this idea
of their throwing the mountains , which is in it^
felf fo grand, burlefque and ridiculous; by this
fmgle circumflance, of one of his giants with the
^ mountain Ida upon his fhoulders, and a river.

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. -83

whicii flowed from the mountain, running down L e c Ti
along the giant's back , as he held it up in that IV.*
pofture. There is a defcription too in Virgil which
I think , is cenfurable though more flightly , in
this refped;; It is that of the burning mountain
iEtna; afubjed: certainly Very proper to be Work*
ed up by a poet into a Sublime defcription i

. — . Horrificis jlixta tonat lEtm. ruinisi

Interdumque atram prorumpit ad jethera nubem ^
Turbine fumantem piceo , & candeftte favilla j
Attollitque globos fiammarum , & fidera lambit^ , ,
Interdum fcopulos , avulfaque vifcera montis
Erigit erudans ^ liquefaclaque faxa fub auras
Cum gemitu glomerat, fundoque extcftuat imo*.

ffiN. III. St*'
Here, after feveral magnificent images, the POel
concludes with perfonifying the mountain undef
this figure, " erudlans vifcera cum gemitu,'*
belching up its bowels with a groan ; which , by
likening the mountain to a fick, or drunk perfon^
degrades the majefty of the defcription. it is to \

no purpofe to tell us, that the Poet here alludes
to the fable of the giant Enceladus lying Undet
mount ^tna; and that he fuppcfes his motions
and toflings tO have occafioned the fiery erup-
tions. He intended the defcription of a Sublimq;
objecft ; and the natural ideas , raifed by a burn=
ing mountain , are infinitely more lofty , thars
the belchings of any giant, how huge foevef.

* The port capacious , and fecure fi-om wind ,
-Is to the foot of Uiundering ^tna joined ,

G 2i

S4 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

L 1 c T. The debafmg effed of the idea which Is here
IV. prefented, will appear in a ftronger light, by-
feeing what figure it makes in a poem of Sir
Richard Blackmore's, who, through a monftrous
perverfity of tafte, had chofen this for the capital
circurnftance in his defcription, and thereby (as
Dr. Arbuthnot humouroufly obferves, in his
Treatife on the Art of Sinking) had reprefented
the mountain as in a fit of the eholic.

jEtna , and all the burning mountains find
Their kindled frores with inbred ftorms of wind
Blown up to rage, and roaring out complain,
As torn with inward gripes and torturing pain;
Labouring , they call: their dreadful vomit round ,
And with their melted bowels fpread the ground.

Such inftances Jhew how much the Sublime
depends upon a juft feledion of circumftances ;
and with how great care every circurnftance
muft be avoided , which , by bordering in the
leaft upon the mean, or even upon the gay or
the trifling, alters the tone of the emotion.

By turns a pitchy cloud Ihe rolls on high , ^ ^
By turns hot embers from her entrails fly, /
And flakes of mounting flames that lick the fky. ^
Oft from her bowels maily rocks are thrown ,
And fhivered by the force , come piece-meal down.
( Oft liquid lakes of burning fulphur flow ,

Fed from the liery fprings that boil below.

Dryden.
1(1 this tranflation of Dryden's, the debafmg circumfl:ance to
wliich I objed in the original, is, with propriety, omitted.

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. §5

I F it fhall now be enquired , What are the L e c t.
proper fources of the Sublime? My anfwer is, IV.
That they are to be looked for every where in
nature. It is not by hunting after tropes, and
figures, and rhetorical affiftances, that we can
exped to produce it. No: it ftands clear, for
the mod part, of thcfe laboured refinements of
art. It muft come unfought, if it come at all;
and be the natural offspring of a P^rong imagine
ation.

Eft Deus in nobis ; agitante calefcimus illo.

Wherever a great and awful objed is prefented
in nature , or a very magnanimous and exalted
affection of the human mind is difplayed ; thence,
if you can catch the impreffion ftrongly , and
exhibit it warm and glowing, you may draw
the Sublime. Thefe are its only proper fources.
In judging of any ftriking beauty in compofition,
whether it is, or is not, to be referred to this
clafs, we muft attend to the nature of the emotion
which it raifes ; and only , if it be of that
elevating, folemn, and awful kind, which dif-
tinguifhes this feeling , we can pronounce it
Sublime,

From the account which I have given of the
nature of the Sublime, it clearly follows, that it
is an emotion which can never be long pro-
traded. The mind , by no force of genius , can
be kept, for any confiderable time,' fo far raifed
above its common tone; b^ut will, of courfe ,
relax into its ordinary fituation. Neither are the

G 3

g6 SUBLIMITY IN WRITlNa

I, ?: c Tj abilities of any human writer fufficient to fupply
IVi 3, continued run of unmi^^ed Sublime conceptions.
The utmoft v/e can exped is, that this fire o£
imagination Ihould fometimes flafh upon us hke
lightning from heaven . and then difappear. In
Homer and Milton , this effulgence o£ genius
breaks forth more frequently, and with greater
luftre than in moft authors. Shakefpeare alfa
yifes often into the true Sublime. But no authoy
"whatever is SubUme throughout. Some, indeed,
there are, who , by a ftrength and dignity ir!
%h(tir conceptions and a current of high ideas that
yuns through their whole compofition, preferve
the reader's mind always in a tone nearly allied
to the Sublime; for which reafon they may, in
^ limited fenfe , merit the name of continued
Sublime writers; and, in this clafs, we may juftly
place Demofthenes and Plato.

As for what is called the Sublime fl:yle . it is,
for the mofl part, a very bad one; and has no
relation whatever to the real Sublime. Perfons
are apt to imagine, that magnificent words,
accumulated epithets , and a certain fwelling
ivind of expreffion by rifuig above what is ufual
pr vulgar , contributes to , or even forms , the
Sublime. Nothing cari be more falfe. In all the
inftances of Sublime Writing , which I have
^iven , nothing of this kind appears : " God
,5 faid, Let there be light . and there was light. "
This is flriking and Sublime. But put it into
%vhat is commonly called the Sublime flyle :
^^ The Sovereign Arbiter of ii^ture , by the

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. %t

^ potent energy of a fingle word , commanded L e c T.
,5 the light to exift; " and, as Boileau has well IV. '
obferved , the ftyle indeed is raifed , but the
thought is fallen. In general, in all good writing,
the Subhme lies in the thought, not in the
words; and when the thought is truly noble, it
will, for the moft part, clothe itfelf in a native
dignity of language. The Sublime, indeed, re-
jeds mean, low, or trivial expreffions; but it is
equally an enemy to fuch as are turgid. The
main fecret of being Sublime , is to fay great
things in few and plain words. It will be found
to hold, without exception , that the moffc
Sublime authors are the fnnplefl: in their flyle *
and wherever you find a writer, who affeds a
more than ordinary pomp and parade of words,
and is always endea.vouring to magnify his
fubjed by epithets , there you may immediately
fufpecfl, that, feeble in fentiment, he is ftudying
to fupport himfelf by mere expreffion.

The fame unfavourable judgment we mull
pafs, on all that laboured apparatus with which
fome writers introduce a paffage, or defcription^
which they intend fhall be Sublime; calling oil
their readers to attend , invoking their Mule , of
breaking forth into general, unmeaning exclama-
tions, concerning the greatnefs, terriblenefs , of
majefty of the objed, which they are to defcribe.
Mr. Addifon, in his Campaign, has fallen into
an error of this kind, when about to defcribe
the battle of Blenheim :

G 4

gS SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

L E C T. But 0 ! my Mufe ! what numbers wilt thou find
IV. To fmg the furious troops in battle joined?

Methinks , I hear the drum's tumultuous found ,
The vidor's fliouts , and dying groans , confound ; Sec.

Introdudions of this kind, are a forced attempt
in a writer, to fpur up himfelf, and his reader*
•when he finds his imagination flagging in vigour.
It is like taking artificial fpirits in order to fupply
the want of fuch as are natural. By this obferv-
ation , however , . 1 do not mean to pafs a general
cenfure on Mr. Addifon's Campaign, which, in
f^veral places , is far from wanting merit ; and in
particular, the noted comparifon of his hero
to the angel who rides in the whirlwind and
' dire6ls the ftorm , is a truly Sublime image.

The faults oppofite to the Sublime are chiefly
two; the Frigid, and the Bombaft. The Frigid
confifts, in degrading an objedl, or fentimenc,
which is Sublime in itfelf , by our mean concep-
tion of it; or by our weak, low, and childifli
defcription of it. This betrays entire abfence, or at
leaft great poverty of genius. Of this, there are
abundance of examples, and thefe commented
upon with much humour, in the Treatife on the
Art of Sinking, in Dean Swift's works; the in-
ftauces taken chiefly from Sir Richard Blackmore.
One of thefe, I had occafion already to give, in
relation to mount iEtna, and it were needlefs to
produce any more. The Bombaft lies, in forcing
an ordinary or trivial objed; out of its rank, and
endeavouring to riiife it into the Sublime j

SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. %g

or, in attempting to exalt a Sublime objed L e c T.
beyond all natural and reafonable bounds. IV<
Into this error , which is but too common ,
writers of genius may fometimes fall, by un-
luckily lofnig fight of the true point of the
Sublime. This is alfo called Fuftian , or Rant.
Shakefpearc, a great, but incorred genius, is
not unexceptionable here. Dryden and Lee, in
their tragedies , abound with it.

Thus far of the Sublime; of which I have
treated fully, becaufe it is fo capital an excel-
lency in fine writing , and becaufe clear and
precife ideas on this head are, as far as 1 know,
not to be met with in critical writers.

Before concluding this Ledure , there is
one obfervation which I chufe to make at this
time ; I fhall make it once for all , and hope it
will be afterwards remembered. It is with refped
to the inftances of faults , or rather blemifhes
and imperfedions , which, as I have done in
this Ledure , I fhall hereafter continue to take ,
when I can, from writers of reputation. I have
not the leafb intention thereby to difparage their
charader in the general. I fliall have other
occafions of doing equal juflice to their beauties.
"But it is no refiedion on any human per-
formance, that it is not abfolutely perfed. The
talk would be much eafier for me , to colled in-
fhances of faults from bad writers. But they
would draw no attention, when quoted from
books which nobody reads. And I conceive,

50 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING.

L E e T. that tlie method which I follow, will contribute
IV. more to make the beft authors be read with
pleafure , when one properly diftingui flies their
beauties from their faults ; and is led to imitate
and admire only what is worthy of imitation
and admiration.

E C T U R E V.

BEAUXy , AND OTHER PLEASURES Of

TASTE.

xV s Sublimity conflkutes a particular cliarader L e c T
of compofitioii, and forms one of the higheft V.
excellencies of eloquence and of poetry, it was
proper to treat of it at fome length. It will not
be neceffary to diicufs fo particularly all the
other pleafures that arife from Tafte, as fome of
them have lefs relation to our main fubjedl. On
Beauty only I fhall make feveral obfervations ,
both as the fubjedl is curious, and as it tends to
improve Tafte , and to difcover the foundation
of feveral of the graces of defcription and of
poetry *.

Beauty next to Sublimity, affords, beyond
doubt, the higheft pleafure to the imagination.

* See Hutchinfon's Enquiry concerning Beauty and Virtu©
' — Gerard on Tafte , chap. iii. — Enquiry into the Origin of the
Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. — Elements of Criticifm,
chap, iii.— Spe(aat9i; , vol. vi. Eflliy on the Pleafures oF
Tafte.

92

BEAUTY.

t E c T. Tlie emotion which it raifes , is very diftinguilli-
V. able from that of Sublimity. It is of a calmer
kind; more gentle and foothing; does not elevate
the mind fo much , but produces an agreeable
ferenity. Sublimity raifes a feeling, too violent,
as I Ihowed , to be lafting; the pleafure arifmg
from Beauty admits of longer continuance. It
extends alfo to a much greater variety of objeds
than Sublimity; to a variety indeed fo great,
that the feelings which Beautiful objedts produce,
differ confiderably , not in degree only, but alfo
in kind , from one another. Hence , no word
in the language is ufed in a more vague fignifi-
cation than Beauty. It is applied to almoft
every external objedl that pleafes the eye, or
the ear; to a great number of the graces of
writing; to many difpofitions of the mind; nay,
to feveral objects of mere abflrad; fcience. We
talk currently of a beautiful tree or flower; a
beautiful poem ; a beautiful character ; and a
beautiful theorem in mathematics.

Hence we may eafily perceive, that, among
fo great a variety of objects, to find out fome
one quality in which they all agree , and which
is the foundation of that agreeable fenfation they
all raife , muft be a very difficult, if not , more
probably , a vain attempt. Objeds, denominated
Beautiful , are fo different, as to pleafe , not in
virtue of any one quality common to them all >
but by means of feveral different principles in
human nature. The agreeable emotion which
they all raife , is fome\vhat of the fame nature j

BEAUTY, 93

znd therefore , has the common name of Beauty L e c t.
given to it; but it is raifed by different caufes. V,

Hypotheses, however, have been framed by
ingenious men, for affigning the fundamental
quality of Beauty in all objects. In particular.
Uniformity amidfl; Variety , has been infifted
on as this fundamental quality. For the Beauty
of many figures, I admit that this accounts in a
fatisfying manner. But when we endeavour to
apply this principle to Beautiful objedts of fome
other kind, as to Colour for mftance, or Motion,
we fhall foon find that it has no place. And
even in external figured objeds, it does not hold,
that their Beauty is in proportion to their mix-
tU4"e of Variety with Uniformity ; feeing many
pleafe us as highly beautiful, which have almoft
no variety at all ; and others , which are various
to a degree of intricacy. Laying fyftems of this
kind, therefore, afide, what I now propofe is,
to give an enumeration of feveral of thofe clafTes
of objeds in which Beauty moft remarkably
appears; and to point out, as far as I can, the
feparate principles of Beauty in each of them. i

Colour affords, perhaps, the fimplefl; inflance
of Beauty , and therefore the fitteft to begin
with. Here, neither Variety, nor Uniformity ,
nor any other .principle that I know, can be
affigned , as the foundation of Beauty. We can
refer it to no other caufe but the ftruclure of the
eye , which determines us to receive certain
modifications of the rays of light with more
i:)leafure than others. And we fee accordingly,

94 BEAUT Y.

1, E c Ti tliat, as the organ of fenfadon varies in different^
y. perfons , they have their different favouritei
colours. It is probable, that affociatiori of ideas
has influence , in fome cafes , on the pleafure
■which we receive from colours. Green , for
inflance, may appear more beautiful, by being
conneded in our ideas with rural profpe^Ss and
fcenes; white, with innocence; blue, with the
ferenity of the fky. Independent of affociations
of this kind, all that we can farther obferve
concerning colours is , that thofe chofen for Beauty*
are , generally , delicate j rather than glaring.
Such are thofe paintings with which nature hath
ornamented fome of her works , and which art
llrives in vain to imitate; as the feathers q£
feveral kinds of birds , the leaves of flowers ^
and the fine variation of colours exhibited by
the fky at the rifing and fetting of the' fun.
Thefe prcfent to us the higheft inftances of the
Beauty of colouring; and have accordingly been
the favourite fubjeds of poetical defcription in-
all countries.

From Colour we proceed to Figure, which
opens to us forms of Beauty more complex and
diverfified. Regularity firft occurs to be noticed
as a fource of Beauty. By a regular figure , is
meant , one which we perceive to be formed ac-
cording to fome certain rule, and not left arbi-
trary, or loofe, in the conftrudion of its parts.
Thus , a circle , a fquare , a triangle , or a hexagon,
pleafe the eye, by their regularity, as beau-
tiful figures. We muft not, however, conclude.

BEAUTY. 95

that all figures pleafe in proportion to their regular-* L E c T.
ky ; or that regularity is the fole, or the chief, Y.
foundation of Beauty in figure. On the contrary,
a certain graceful variety is found to be a much
more powerful principle of Beauty ; and is there-
fore ftudied a great deal more than regularity,
in all works that are defigned merely to pleafe
the eye. I am, indeed, inclined to think, that
regularity appears beautiful to us, chiefly, if not
only, on account of its fuggefting the ideas of
iitnefs, propriety, and ufe, which have always a
greater connedtion with orderly and proportioned
forms , than with thofe which appear not con-
ftruded according to any certain rule. It is clear,
that nature, who is undoubtedly the mofb grace-
ful artift, hath, in all her ornamental works,
purfued variety, with an apparent negledl of
regularity. Cabinets, doors, and windows, are
made after a regular form, in cubes and paralle-
lograms, with exad proportion of parts ; and by
being fo formed they pleafe the eye; for this
good reafon, that, being works of ufe, they are,
by fuch figures, the better fuited to the ends for
"which they were defigned. But plants, flowers,
•and leaves are full of variety and diverfity. A
ftraight canal is an infipid figure , in comparifon
of the mseanders of rivers. Cones and pyramids are
beautiful; but trees growing in their natural
wildnefs , are infinitely more beautiful than when
trimmed into pyramids and cones. The apart-
ments of a houfe muft be regular in their difpofi-
tion for the convenieney of its inhabitants; but

9^ BEAUTY.

t E c T. a garden , which is defigned merely for Beauty,
V- would be exceedingly difgufting, if it had as
much uniformity and order in its parts as a dwel-
ling houfe.

Mr. Hogarth, in his Analyfis of Beauty,
has obferved, that figures bounded by curve
lines are, in general, more beautiful than thofe
bounded by flraight lines and angles. He pitch-
es upon two lines , on which , according to
him , the Beauty of figure principally depends ;
and he has illufhrated , and fupported his doctrine,
by a furprifmg number of inftances. The one is
the Waving Line , or a curve bending back-
wards and forwards, fomewhat in the form of
the letter S. This he calls the Line of Beauty ,
and fliews how often it is found in (hells, flowers and
fuch other ornamental works of nature ; as it is
common alfo in the figures defigned by painters
a4>d.-.fQi!ilp,tors , for the purpofe of decoration. The
other Line, which he calls the Line of Grace,
is the former waving curve, twifted round fome
folid body. The curling worm of a common
jack is one of the inftances he gives of it, Twift-
ed pillars, and twifled horns, alfo exhibit it. In
all the inflances which he mentions , Variety
plainly appears to be fo material a principle of
Beauty that he feems not to err much when he
defines the art of drawing pleafing forms, to be
the art of varying well. For the curve line , fo
much the favourite of painters, derives, accord-
ing to him, its chief ad-vantage , from its per-
petual

BEAUTY. ^r

petual bending and variation from the fliff regu- L e c T.
larity of the flraight line. V*

Motion farnifhes another fource of Beauty,
diftindt from Figure. Motion of itfelf is pleaf-
ing ; and bodies in motion are , " cseteris pari-
*' bus , " preferred to thofe in reft. It is , however,
only gentle motion that belongs to the Beau-
tiful; for when it is very fwift , or very forcible,
fuch as that of a toiTent, it partakes of the Sublime.
The motion of a bird gliding through the air , is
extremely Beautiful ; the fwiftnefs with which
lightning darts through the heavens , is magnificent
and aftonilhing. And here, it is proper to obferve,
that the fenfations of Sublime and Beautiful are
not always diftinguifhed by very diftant boun-
daries ; but are capable , in feveral inftances , of
approaching towards each other. Thus , a-
fmooth running ftream , is one of the moft beau- ,

tiful objeds in nature : as it fwells gradually
into a great river , the beautiful , by degrees , is
loft in the Sublime. A young tree is a beautiful
object; a fpreading ancient oak, is a v^enerable
and a grand one. The calmnefs of a fine morn-
ing is beautiful ; the univerfal ftillnefs of the even-
ing is highly Sublim.e. But to return to the
Beauty of motion , it v/ill be found , I think ,
to hold very generally , that motion in a ftraighc
line is not fo beautiful as in an undulating wav-
ing diredion ; and motion upwards is , common-
ly too , more agreeable than motion downwards.
The eafy curling motion of flame and fmoke is to
be inftanced, as an objed fingularly agreeable:

Vol. I. H

98 BEAUTY,

L E c T. and here Mr. Hogarth's waving line recurs upon
v. us as a principle of Beauty. That artift obferves
very ingenioufly , that all the common and necet
{ary motions for the bufmefs of life , are perform-
ed by men in ftraight or plain lines j but that
all the graceful and ornamental movements are
made in waving lines: an obfervation not un-
worthy of being attended to, by all who fludy
the grace of gefture and adlion.

Though Colour, Figure, and Motion, be fe-
parate principles of Beauty; yet in many' beauti-
ful objedls they all meet, and thereby render the
Beauty both greater, and more complex. Thus,
in flowers , trees , animals , we are entertained afc
once with the deHcacy of the colour, with the
gracefulnefs of the figure , and fom.etimes alfo
with the motion of the objed. Although each
of thefe produce a feparate agreeable fenfation ,
yet they are of fuch a fimilar nature , as readily
to mix and blend in one general perception of
Beauty, which we afcribe to the whole objecT:
as its caufe : For Beauty is always conceived by
lis fomething refiding in the objed; which raifes
the pleafant fenfation ; a fort of glory which
dwells upon, and invefls it. Perhaps the mofl
complete affemblage of beautiful objeds that can
any where be found , is prefented by a rich na-
tural landfcape , where there is a fufficient varie-
ty of objects: fields in verdure, fcattered trees
and flowers, running water, and animals graz-
ing. If to thefe be joined , fome of the produc-
tions of art , which fuit fuch a fcene ; as a. bridge

BEAUTY. 99

■with arches over* a river, fraoke rifing from l e G f.
cottages in the midft of trees , and the diftant V,
view of a fine building feen by the rifing fun |
we then enjoy, in the higheft perfection^ thafi
gay, cheerful, and placid fenfation which charac-
terifes Beauty. To have an eye and a tafte form-'
ed for catching the pecuhar Beauties of fuch
£cenes as thefe , is a neceffary requifite for all
who attempt poetical defcription.

The Beauty of the human countenance is tiio-
re complex than any that whe have yet confider-^
ed. It includes the Beauty of colour , arifmg froni
the dehcate fliades of the complexion ; and thd
Beauty of figure j arifmg from the lines which
form the difi-erent features of the face. But the
chief Beauty of the countenance depends upoa
a myflerious expreffion, which it conveys of the
qualities of the mind ; of good fenfe , or good
humour ; of fprightlinefs , candour , benevo-
lence , fenfibility , or other amiable difpofitionSd
How it comes to pafs, that a certain conforma-
tion of features is connedled in our idea with
certain moral quahties; whether we are thought
by inftind, or by experience ^ to form this coil-
nedion, and to read the mind in the counte*
nance ; belongs not to us now to enquire ^ nor is
indeed eafy to refolve. The fad is certain, and
acknowledged , that what gives the human
countenance its mod diftingiiiilling Beauty^ is
• what is called its expreliion ; or an image , which
it is conceived to iliew of internal moral difpoij-
tions,

H 2

100

B E A U T Y.

X E c T. This leads to obferve , tbat there are certain
V. qualities of the mind which , "whether expreffed
in the countenance , or by words , or by adions,
always raife in us a feeling fimilar to that of
Beauty. There are two great claffes of moral
qualities; one is of the high and the great, vir-
tues , which require extraordinary efforts , and
turn upon dangers and fufferings j , as heroifmi,
magnanimity, contempt of pleafures, and con-
tempt of death. Thefe , as I have obferved in
a former Lecture , excite in the fpecflator an.
emotion of SubHmity and Grandeur. The other
clafs is generally of the focial virtues , and fuch
as are of a fofter and gentler kind; as compaf»
fion , mildnefs , friendfliip , and generofity. Thefe
jaife in the beholder a fenfation of pleafure , fo
much akin to that produced by Beautiful external
objeds, that, though of a more dignified nature,
it may , without impropriety , be clafTed under
the fame head.

A SPECIES of Beauty , diftind from any I
have yet mentioned, arifes from defign or art;
or , in other words , from the perception of
means being adapted to an end; or' the parts of
any thing being well fitted to anfwer the defign
of the whole. When, in confidering the ftru dure
of a tree or a plant, we obferve , how all the
parts, the roots, the ftem , the bark, and the
leaves , are fuited to the growth . and nutriment
of the whole : much more when we furvey all
the parts and members of a. living animal ; or
wlien >Ye examine any of the curious works of

BEAU T Y. tot

art;' fuch as a clock, a fliip, or any nice macliine; L e c T.
the pleafure which we have in the furvey , is V.
wholly founded on this fenfe of Beauty. It is
altogether different from the perception of Beauty
produced by colour, figure, variety, or any of
the caufes formerly mentioned. When I look at
a watch, for inftance , the cafe of it, if finely
engraved, and of curious workmanflhip , ftrikes
me as beautiful in the former fenfe ; bright
colour, exquifite polifh , figures finely raifed
and turned. But when I examine the conftrudion
of the fpring and the wheels , and praife the
Beauty of the internal machinery ; my pleafure
then arifes wholly from the view of that admir-
able art, with which fo many various and com-
plicated parts are made to unite for one purpofe.

This fenfe of Beauty, in fitnefs and defign,
has an extenfive influence over many of our
ideas. It is the foundation of the Beauty which
we difcover in the proportion of doors , win-
dows , arches , pillars , and ail the orders of
architedure. Let the ornaments of a building
be ever fo fine and elegant in themfelves , yet
if they interfere with this fenfe of fitnefs and
defigh, they lofe their Beauty, and hurt the eye, ,
like difagreeable objeAs. Twifted columns , for
iaCtance, are undoubtedly ornamental; but as
they have an appearance of weaknefs , they
always difpleafe when they are made ufe of to
fupport any part of a building that is malTy, and
that feeraed to require a more fubftantial prop.
We cannot look upon any woi'k whatever with*

• H 3

10%

BEAUTY,

Iv E G T, out being led , by a natural aflbciation of idfeas,
V. to think of its end and defign, and of courfe to
examine the propriety of its parts, in relation
to this defig'n and end. When their propriety is
dearly diicerned, the \yor' feems always to have
forne Beautv ; but when there is a total want of
propriety, it ne\'er fails of appearing deformed.
Our fenfe of fitnefs and defign. therefore, is fo
poM'erful, and holds fo high a rank among our
perceptioas 5 as to regulate, in a great meafure,
our oiher idea'^ of Beauty : An obfervatioi^
which I the jather make,, as it is of the utmoft
importance, that all who ftudy compofition
fhould carefully attend to it. For, in an epic
^ poem, a hiftory, an oration, or any work of
genius , we always require as we do in other
works, a fitnefs , or adjuftment of means, to
the end which the author is fuppofed to have
in view. Let his defcription be ever fo rich„ or
liis figures ever fo elegant , yet , if they are out
of place , if they are not proper parts of that
whole , if they fuit not the main defign , they
lofe all their Beauty; nay, from Beauties they
are converted into Deformities. Such power has
our fenfe of fitnefs and congruity , to produce
^ total transfortnation of an objed whofe appear-;
Jince otherwife would have been Beautiful.

AFihK having mentioned fo many various
fperies of Beauty , it now only remains to take
notice of Beauty as it is applied to writing or
difcourfe ; a terrn commonly ufed in a fenfe
altogether loofe and undetermined. For it is

BEAUTY'. 103

Applied to all that pleafes , either m flyle or in L e c T.
lentiment, from whatever principle that pleafure V.
flows ; and a Beautiful poem or oration means,
in common language, no other than a good one,
or one well compofed. In this fenfe, it is plain,
the word is altogether indefinite, and points at
no particular fpecies or kind of Beauty. There
is , however , another fenfe , fomewhat more
definite, in which Beauty of writing charaderifes
a particular manner; when it is ufed to fignify
a certain grace and amcenity in the turn either
of ftyle or lentiment , for which fome authors
have been pecufiarly diftinguilhed. In this fenfe,
it denotes a manner neither remarkably fublimej
nor vehemently paffionate , nor uncommonly
fparkling; but fuch as raifes in the reader an
emotion of the gentle placid kind , fimilar to
what is raifed by the contemplation of beautiful
obje<fls in nature ; which neither lifts the mind
ver7 high, nor agitates it very much, but
dirfufes ov^er the imagination an agreeable and
pleafing ferenity, Mr. Addifon is a writer alto-
gether of this charader ; and is one of the moffc
proper and precife examples that can be given
of it. Fenelon , the author of the Adventures
of Telemachus, may be given as another example.
Virgil too, though very capable of rifmg on
oCcafions into the Sublime, yet, in his general
manner, is diftinguillied by the charader of
Beauty and Grace rather than of Sublimity
Among orators-j Cicero has more of the Beautiful

H 4

104 PLEASURES OF TASTE.

L E c T. tlian Demofthenes, whofe genius led him wholly
V. towards vehemence and ftrength.

Thus much it is fufficient to have faid upon
the fubjecft of Beauty. We have traced it through
a variety of forms ; as next to Sublimity , it is
the moft copious fource of the Pleafures of
Tafte ; and as the confideration oF the different
appearances, and principles of Beauty, tends to
the improvement of Tafte in many fubjedts.

But it is only by appearing under the forms
of Sublime or Beautiful, that objeds delight the
imagination. From feveral other principles alfo,
they derive their power of giving it pleafure.

Novelty, for inftance, has been mentioned
by Mr. Addifon . and by every writer on this
fubjed. An objed: which has no merit to
recommend it , except its being uncommon or
new , by means of this quality alone , produces
in the mind a vivid and an agreeable emotion.
Flence that paffion of curiofity, which prevails
fo generally among mankind. Objeds and ide?.s
which have been long familiar, make too faint
an impreffion to give an agreeable exercife to
our faculties. New and ftrange objeds roufe the
mind from its dormant ftate, by giving it a quick
and pleafmg impulfe. Hence, in a great meafure,
the entertainment afforded us by fidion and.
romance. The emotion raifed by Novelty is of
a more lively and pungent nature , than that
produced by Beauty; but much fliorter in its
continuance. For if the objed have in itfelf no

PLEASURES OF TASTE. 105

charms to hold our attention , the fliining glofs L e c t.
thrown upon it by Novelty foon wears off. V*

Besides Novelty, Imitation is another fource
of Pleafure. to Tafte. This gives rife to what
Mr. Addifon terms , the Secondary Pleafure-s
of Imagination; which form, doubtlefs, a very
extenfive clafs. For all Imitation affords fome
pleafure; not only the Imitation of beautiful or
great objeds, by recalling the original ideas of
Beauty or Grandeur which fuch objeds themfel-
ves exhibited; but even objedls v/hich have
neither Beauty nor Grandeur, nay, forrfe which
are terrible or deformed, pleafe us in a fecondary
or reprefented view.

The Pleafures of Melody and Harmony belong
■alfo to Tafte. There is no agreeable fenfation
we receive, either from Beauty or Sublimity,
but what is capable of being heightened by the
power of mufical found. Hence the delight
of poetical numbers; and even of the more
concealed and loofer meafures of profe. Wit,
Humour , and Ridicule likewife open a variety
of pleafures to Tafte , quite diftindl from any
tliat we have yet confidered.

At prefent it is not neceffary to purfue any
:farther the fubjed; of the Pleafures of Tafte. I
have opened forne of the general principles ; it
is time now to make the application to our
chief fubjed;. If the queftion be put, To what
clafs of thofe Pleafures of Tafte which I have
enumerated, that Pleafure is to be referred,
which we receive from poetry, eloquence, or

io6 IMITATION AND DESCRIPTION:

31- E c T. fine writing? My anfwer is, Not to any one,
V. but to them all. This fmgular advantage, writing
. and difcourfe. poffefs , that they encompafs fo
large and rich a field on all fides, and have
power to exhibit , in great perfection , not a
fmgle fet of objeds only , but almoft the whole
of thofe which give Pleafure. to Tafte and ima-
gination; whether that Pleafure arife from Su-
blimity, from Beauty in its different forms, from
Defign and Art , from Moral Sentiment , from
Novelty, from Harmony , from Wit, Humour
• and Ruiicule. To whichfoever of thefe the
peculiar bent of a perfon's Tafte lies, from fome
writer or other , he has it always in his power
to receive the gratification of it.

Now this high power which eloquence and
poetry poffefs, of fupplying Tafte and Imagin-
ation with fuch a wide circle of pleafures , they
derive altogether from their having a greater
capacity of Imitation and Defcription than is
poffeffed by any other art. Of all the means
which human ingenuity has contrived for recall-
ing the images of real objeds , and awakening,
by reprefentation , fimilar emotions to thofe
which are raifed by the original , none is fo full
and extenfive as that which is executed by words
and writing. Through the affiftance of this
happy invention, there is nothing, either in the
natural or moral world, but what can be repre-
fented and fet before the mind, in colours very
ftrong and lively. Hence it is ufual among
critical writers , to fpeak of Difcourfe as the

IMITATION AND DESCRIPTION. 107

chief of all the imitative or mimetic arts ; they L E C T.
compare it with painting and with fculpture, V.
and in many refpects prefer it juftly before them.
This ftyle was firft introduced by Ariftode
in his Poetics ; and fmce his time , has acquired
a general currency among modern authors. But,
as it is of confequence to introduce as much
precifion as poffible into critical language , I
muft obferve , that this manner of fpeaking is
not accurate. Neither difcourfe in general , nor
poetry in particular , can be called altogether
imitative arts. We muft diftinguifh betwixt
Imitation and Defcription , which are ideas that
fliould not be confounded. Imitation is perform-
ed by means of fomewhat that has a natural
likenefs and refemblance to the thing imitated,
and of confequence is underftood by all ; fuch
are ftatues and pictures. Defcription, again, is
the raifmg in the mmd the conception of an
objed; by means of fome arbitrary or infiiituted
fymbols, underftood only by thofe who agree
in the inftitution of them ; fuch are words and
writing, Words have no natural refemblance
to the ideas or objecls which they are employed
to fignify; but a ftatue or a picture has a natural
likenefs to the original. And therefore Imitation
and Defcription differ confiderably in their
nature from each other.

As far, indeed, as a poet or a hiftorian in-
troduces into his work perfons adually fpeak-
ing ; and by the words which he puts into their
mouths, reprefents th^ difcourfe which they-

108 IMITATION AND DESCRIPTION.

L E c-T. might be fuppofed to hold; fo far his art may
V- more accurately be called Imitative: and this is
the cafe in all dramatic compofition. But in
Narrative or Defcriptive M^orks , it can with no
propriety be called fo. Who , for inftance ,
would call Virgil's Defcription of a tempeft, in
the firft iEncid , an Imitation of a ftorm ? If we
heard of the Imitation of a battle , we might
naturally think of fome mock fight, or reprefentr
ation of a battle on the ftage , but would never
apprehend , that it meant one of Homer's
Deferiptions in the Iliad. I admit , at the fame
time , that Imitation and Defcription agree in
their principal e£fe(ft, of recalling by external
figns , the ideas of things which we do not fee.
But though in this they coincide, yet it lliould
not be forgotten, that the terms themfelves are
not fynonymous ; that they import different
means of effecting the fam.e end; and of courfe
make different impreffions on the mind *.

* Though , in the execution of particular parts , Poetry
is certainly Defcriptive rather than Imitative , yet there is
a qualified fenfe in which Poetry, in the general, may be
termed an Imitative art. The fubjedl of the poet ( as Dr.
Gerard has fhown in the Appendix to his Effay on Tafte )
js intended to be an Imitation , not of things really exift-
ing , but of the courfe of nature ; that is , a feigned re-
prefentation of fuch events , or fuch fcenes , as though
they never had a being , yet might have exilled ; ant!!
which , therefore , by their probability , bear a refemblance
to nature. It was probably , in this fenfe , that Ariftotle termed
Poetry a mimetic art. How far either the Imitation or the
Defcription which Poetry employs, is fuperior to the imitative

IMITATION AND DESCRIPTION. 109

Whether we confider Poetry in particular, L e c t.
and Difcourfe in general , as Imitative or Def- V.
criptive ; it is evident, that their whole power,
in recalling the impreffions of real objeds , is
derived from the fignificancy of words. As their
excellency flows altogether from this fource , we
muft, in order to make way for further enquiries,
begin at this fountain head. I fliall , therefore , in
the next Ledure , enter upon the confideration of
Language : of the origin, the progrefs, and conftruc-
tion of which , I purpofe to treat at fome length.

powers of Painting and Mufic , is well fhown by Mr.
Harris , in his Treatife on Mufic , Painting , and Poetry,
The chief advantage which Poetry , or Difcourfe in general
enjoys is,thatwhereas,by the nature of his art,the Painter is con-
fined to the reprefentation of a fmgle moment , writing and dif-
courfe can trace a tranfadion through its whole progrefs.
That moment , indeed , which the painter pitches upon
for the fubjed: of his pifture , he may be faid to exhibit
with more advantage than the poet or the orator; inaf-
much as he fets before us , in one view , all the minute
concurrent circumftances of the event which happen in one
individual point of time, as they appear in nature; while
Difcourfe is obliged to exhibit them in fucceffion, and by
means of a detail, v/hich is in danger of becoming tedious,
in order to be clear ; or if not tedious , is in danger of
being obfcure. But to that point of time which he has
chofen, the painter being entirely confined, he cannot
exhibit various ftages of the fame aftion or event ; and
he is fubjecl to this farther defedt , that he can only exhibit
objefts as they appear to the eye, and can very imper-
fedly deUneate charaders and fentiments , which ai'e the
noblell fubjeds of Imitation or Defcription. The power of
reprefentingthefe with full advantage, gives a high fuperiority
to Difcourfe and "Writing above all other imitative arts.

LECTURE VI

RISE AND PROGRESS of LANGUAGE.

L E c T. JriAVING finifhed my obfervations on tlie
VI. Pleafufes of TaRe , which were me.tnt to be
introduclory to the principal fubjecfl of thefe
Ledures, 1 now begin to treat of Language;
"which is the foundation of the whole power of
eloquence. This will lead to a confiderable dif-
cuiTion ; and there are few fubjecls belonging to
polite literature j which more merit fuch a dif-
cuffion. 1 fhall firft give a Hiftory of the Rife
and Progrefs of Language in feveral particulars',
from its early to its more advanced periods ;
which fhall be followed by a fimilar Hiftory of
the Rife and Progrefs of Writing, I fiiall next
give fome account of the Conftrudion of Lan-
guage, or the Principles of Univerfal Grammar ;
and fhall, laftly, apply thefe obfervations more
particularly to the Englifh Tongue *.

Language, in general, fignifies the expreffion
of our ideas by certain articulate founds, which
are ufed as the figns of thofe ideas. By articulate

' * See Dr. Adam Smith's Diflertation on the Formation
of Languages. — ■ Treatife of the Origin and Progrefs of Lan-

RISE AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 1 1 1

founds , are meant thofe modulations of fimple L E c T.
voice, or of found emitted from the thorax, YI.
\vhich are formed by means of the mouth and
its feveral organs , the teeth , the tongue , the
lips , and the palate. How far there is any-
natural connexion between the ideas of the mind
and the founds emitted , will appear from what;
I am afterwards to offer. But as the natural con-
nexion can , upon any fyftem , affedl only ^
fmall part of the fabric of Language; the con-
nexion between words and ideas may, in general,
*be confidered as arbitrary and conventional ,
owing to the agreement of men among them-
selves; the clear proof of which is, that different
nations have different Languages , or a different
fet of articulate founds , which they have chofen
for communicating their ideas.

This artificial method of communicating
thought , we now behold carried to the high-
efl perfection. Language is become a vehicle by
which the mofl delicate and refined emotions of

guage , in 4 vols, — Harris's Hermes, or, a Philofophical
Enquiry concerning Language and Univerfal Grammar —
Eflai fur I'Origine des ConnaifTances Humaines , par L'Abbe
Condillac, — Principes de Grammaire, par du Marfais. — •
Grammaire Generale & Raifonnee — Traite de la Formation
Mechanique des Langues , par le Prefident de Broffes. — .
Difcours fur I'inegalite parmi les Homnies , par Rouffeau.— *<
Grammaire Generale , par Beauzee. — Principes de la Tra-
duction , par Batteux. — Warburton s Divine Legation of
Mofes , vol. iii. — Sandi Minerva , cum notis Perizonii. —
Les vrais Principes de la Langue Francaife , par I'Abbe
Cirard,

112 RISE AND PROGRESS

I, E c T. one mind can be tranfmitted, or, if we may fo
Vl. fpeak , transfufed into another. Not only are
names given to all objeds around us , by which
means an eafy and fpeedy intercourfe is carried
on for providing the neceffaries of life , but all
the relations and differences among tliefe objeds
are minutely marked , the invifible fentiments of
the mind are defcribed, the moft abfliradl notions
.^id conceptions are rendered intelligible ; and
all the ideas Vhich fciehce tan difcover , or
imagination create, are known by their proper
names. Nay, Language has been carried fo far,*
as to be made an inftrument of the mofl refined
luxury. Not refling in mere perfpicuity , we
require ornament alfo ; not fatisfied with having
the conceptions of others made known to us,
we make a farther demand, to have them fa
decked and adorned as to entertain our fancy;
and this demand , it is found very poflible to
"gratify. In this ftate , we now find Language,
in this ftate , it has been found among many
nations for fome thoufand years. The objecl:
is become familiar ; and , like the expanfe of the
firmament , and other great objeds , which we
are accuftomed to behold , we behold it without
wonder.

But carry your thoughts back to the firfc
dawn of Language among men. Refied upon
the feeble beginnings from which it muft have
arifen, and upon the many and great obflacles
which it muffc have encountered in its progrefs ;
and you wiil find realon for the higheft aflonifh-

ment

OF LANGUAGE. 113

menti, on viewing the height which it has now L e c t*
attained. We admire feveral of the inventions o£ VI.
art; we plume ourfelves on feme difcoveries
which have been made in latter ages ferving to
advance knowledge , and to render life com-
fortable; we fpeak of them .a? the boaft of
human reafon. Rut certainty no invention i$
entitled to any fuch degree of admiration as that
of Language; which, too, muft have been the
producl: of the firflt and rudefb ages, if indeed
it can be confidered as a human invention at all.

Think of the circumftances of mankind when
Languages began to be formed. They Were a
wandermg fcattered race; no fociety among them
except families ; and the family-fociety too Very
imperfed;, as their method of living by hunting
or pafturage muft have jTeparated them frequently
from one another. In this fituation. when fo
much divided , and their intercourfe fo rare ,
how could any one fet of founds , or words ,
be generally agreed on as the figns of their
ideas? Suppofing that a few, whom chance or
neceflity threw together , agreed by fome means
upon certain figns, yet by what authority could
thefe be propagated among other tribes or fami*
lies , fo as to fpread and grow up into a Lan«
guage? One would think, that in order to any
Language fixing and extending itfelf, men muft
have been previouily gathered together in confi-
derable numbers ; fociety muft have been already
far advanced ; and yet, on the other hand , there
feems to have been an abfolute neceljuty for

Vol. L I

114 RISE AND PROGRESS

3L E c T. Speech, previous to the formation of Society.
VI. For, by what bond could any multitude of men
be kept together , or be made to join in the
profecution of any common intereft , until once ,
by the intervention of Speech, they could com-
municate their wants and intentions to each
other? So that, either how Society could form
itfelf previoufly to Language; or how words
could rife into a Language , previoufiy to So-
ciety formed, feem to be points attended with
equal difficulty. And when we confider farther ,
that curious analogy which prevails in the con-
frruction of aimofl all Languages , and that deep
and fubtile logic on which they are founded^
difficulties increafe fo much upon us, on all
hands j that there feems to be no fmall reafon
for referring the firfl origin of all Language to
divine teaching or infpiration.

But fuppofmg Language to have a Divine
original, we cannot, however, fuppofe, that
a perfed: fyftem of it was all at once given to
man. It is much more natural to think, that
God taught our firR parents only fuch Language
as fuited their prefent occafions; leaving them,
as he did in other things to enlarge and improve
it as their future neceffities fliould require. Con-
fequently, thofe firft rudiments of Speech muft
have been poor and narrow; and we are at full
liberty to enquire in what manner , and by
what fteps, Language advanced to the flate in
which we now find it. Tlie hiftory which I
am to give of this progrefs, will fuggeft feveral

OF LANGUAGE. 115

things, both curious in themfelves, and ufeful in L e c t,
our future difquifitions. VL

If we fhould fuppofe a period before any
words were invented or known, it is clear, thaC
men could have no other rnethod of communi-
cating to others what they felt, than by the
cries of paffion, accompanied with fuch motions
and geftures as were farther expreJQQve of paflion.
For thefe are the only figns which nature
teaches all men, and which are underftood by
all One who faw another going into fome
place where he himfelf had been frightened,
or expofed to d<^nger, and who fought to warn
his neighbour of the danger, could contrive no
other way of doing fo , than by. uttering thofe
cries, and making thofe geftures, which are the
figns of fear: juft as two men, at this day,
would endeavour to make themfelves be Under-
ftood by each other , who fliould be thrown
together on a defolate ifland , ignorant of one
another's Language. Thofe exclamations, there-
fore, which by Grammarians are called Inter-
jed;ions, uttered in a ftrong and paffionate manner,
were , beyond doubt , the lirft elements or
beginnings of Speech. '

When more enlarged communication became
neceffary , and names began to be affigned to
objeds, in what manner can we fuppofe men
to have proceeded in this affignation of names ,
or invention of words? Undoubtedly, by imitat*-
ing , as much as they could, the nature of the
objed which they named, by the found of the

1 %

ii6 kISE AND PROGRESS

X. B c T. name which they gave to it. As a Painter,
VI. who would reprefent grafs, mufl employ a greeii
colour; fo, in the beginnings of Language, one
giving a name to any thing harlh or boiflerous,
would of courfe employ a ha^iQi or boifterous
found. He could not do otherwjfe , if he meant
to excite in the hearer the idea of that thing
which he fought to name. To fuppofe words
invented , or names given , to things% in a
manner purely arbitrary , without any ground
or reafon , is to fuppofe an effedl without a.
caufe. There muft have always been fome
motive which led to the affignation of one name
rather than another ; and we can conceive no
motive which .would more univerfally operate
upon men in their firft efforts towards Lan-
guage, than a defire to paint by Speech, the
objects which they named, in a manner more
or lefs complete , according as the vocal
organs had it in their power to effect this
imitation.

Wherever objedls were to be named, irA:
which found, noife, or motioli were concerned,
the imitation by words was abundantly obvious.
Nothing was more natural, than to imitate, by
the found of the voice, the quality of the found
or noife which any external objedl made; and
to form its name accordingly. Thus , in all
Languages , we find a multitude of words that
are evidently conftruded upon this principle.
A certain bird is termed the Cuckoo , from the
found which it emits. When one fort of wind

OF LANGUAGE. 117

is faid to -wMjlle^ and another to roqr ^ -when a L E c t.
ferpent is faid to hfs ; a fly to buz , and falling Vi
timber to crash; when a ftream is faid to flow ^
and hail to rattle; the analogy between the word
and the thing fignified is plainly difcernible.

In the names of objedls which addrefs the
fight only , where neither noife nor motion are
concerned , and ftill more in the terms appro-
priated to moral ideas, this analogy appears to
fail. Many learned men, however, have been
of opinion , that though , in fuch cafes , it
becomes more obfcure, yet it is not altogether
loft; but that throughout the radical words of
all Languages, there may be traced fome degree
of correfpondence with the object fignified.
With regard to moral and intelledlual ideas, they
remark, that, in every Language, the terms
fignificant of them, are derived from the names
of fenfible objeds to which they are conceived
to be analogous ; and with regard to fenfible
objeds pertaining merely to fight , they remark,
that their moft diftinguifhing qualities have
certain radical founds appropriated to the ex-
preffion of them, in a great variety of Languages.
Stability, for inftance, fluidity, hollownefSy
fmoothnefs, gentlenefs, violence, &c. they imagine
to be painted by the found of certain letters or
fyllables, which have fome relation to thofe
different dates of vifible objects , on account of
an obfcure refemblance which the organs of voice
are capable of alfumingto fu<th external qualities.
By this natural mechanifm, they imagine all

1 3

iig RISE AND PROGRESS

I E c T, Languages to have been at firft conftruded, and
• \ii the roots of their capital words formed*.

As far as this fyftem is founded in truth.
Language appears to be not alcoeether arbitrary
in its origin. Among the ancient Stoic and
Platonic Philofophers , it was a queftion much
agitated, " Utrum nomina rerum fint natura, aa
impofitione ?" (pva-ni} 6i(rii ^ by which they meant,
Whether words were merely conventional
iymbols; of the rife of which no account could
Idc given , except the pleafure of the firft invent.

* The Author , who has carried his fpeculations on thi s
fubjeftthe fartheft, is the Prefident Des Broffes, in his *■' Traite
5, de la Formation Mechanique des Langues." Some of the
radical letters or fyllables which he fuppofes to carry this ex-
preffive power. in moil known Languages are , St , to fignify
liability or rell ; Fl , to denote fluency ; CI , a gentle defccnt ;
R , what relates to rapid motion ; C , to cavity or hollownefs ,
i&c. A century before his time , Dr. Wallis, in his Grammar
of the Englifh Language , had taken notice of thefe lignificant
roots, and reprefented it as a peculiar excellency of our
Tongue, that, beyond all others, it expreflfed the nature of
the objeds which it names , by employing founds fharper , foft-
^r , weaker , ftronger , more obfcure , or more Ilridulous , ac-
cording as the idea which is to be fuggefted requires. He
gives various examples. Thus , words formed upon St , always
denote firmnefs and ftrength, analogous to the Latin 7?o ; as,
ftand, ftay , flafF, Hop, ftout , ileady , Hake , ilamp , ftallion ,
ftately , &c. Words beginning with Str , intimate violent force,
and energy , analogous to the Greek <^Duvvvf/.i ; as , ftrive ,
ftrength , flrike , flripe , flrefs , llruggle , ftride , ftretch , flrip ,
(i&c. Thr , implies forcible motion ; as , throv/ , throb , thruil ,
through, threaten, thraldom. "Wr, obliquity or diftortion;
as , wry , wreft , wreatT, wreftle , wring , wrong , wrangle ,
wrath , wrack , &c. Sw , filent agitation , or lateral motion ;

OF LANGUAGE. 119

-tors of Language ? or , Whether there was L e c t,
feme principle in nature that led to the affign- VI.
ation of particular names to particular objeds;
and thofe of the piatonic fchool favoured the
latter opinion *?

as , fway , fwing , fwerve , fweep , fwim. SI , a gentle fall or
lefs obfervable motion ; as , flide , Jlip , fly , flit , flow , flack ,
fling. Sp, diffipation or expanfioii;' as ^ fpread , fprout,
fprinkle , fplit , fpill , fpring. Terminations in Afli , indicate
fomething acTcing nimbly and fharply ; as erafh , gafh ,
ralh , flafh , lafh , fiafii. Terminations in Uili , fomething acting
more obtufely and dully; as, cri^fh , bmfh , hufli, gufh ,
blvifh. The learned Author produces a great many more ••''
examples of the fame kind, v/hich feem to leave no doubt,
that the analogies of found have had fome ini^uence on'
the formation of Vv'ords. At the fame time , in all fpe-
culations of this kind , there is fo much room for fancy
to operate, that they ought to be adopted with much
■caution in forming any general theory.

* Vid. Plat, in Cratylo. '' Nomina vcrbaque non pofitu
*■' fortuito , fed quadam vi & ratione naturee fafta efTe ,
'' P. Nigidius in Grammaticis Commentariis docet ;• rern fine

^' in philofophice differtationibus celebrem In earn rem

" multa argumenta dicit , cur videri pofTmt verba effe natu-

" ralia , magis quam ai'bitraria Voy , inquit , cum dicinius,

^ motu quodam oris conveniente , cum ipfius verbi demon-

*' ftratione utinuir , & labias fenfim prirnores eniovemus ,

" ac fpiritum atque animam porro verfum , & ad cos quibus-

~" cum fermocinamur intendimus. At contra cum dicimus

" Nos , neque profufo intentoque fiatu vocis , neque pro-

jecl:is labiis pronunciamus ; fed et fpiritum et labias quali

intra nofmet ipfos coercemus. Hoc idem fit et in eo

quod dicimus , tu , & ego , & j?uhi , & tibi. Nam ficuti

cum adnuimus & abnuimus,motus quidam ille vel capitis vel

" oculorum , a natura rei quam figaificat , non abhorret , ita

" in his vocibus quafi geflus quidam oris & fpiritus natu.

. I4

12© ' RISE AND PROGRESS

L E c T. This principle, however, of a natural relation
Vj. between words and ob]ed:s, can only be >applied
to Language in its moft fimple and primitive
ftate, Though, in every Tongue , fome remains
of it, as I have fhewn above, can be traced,
it were utterly in vain to fearch for it throughout
the whole conftrudion of any modern Language.
As the rnukitude of terms increafe in every
nation , and the immenfe field of Language is
iiUed up, words, by a thoufand fanciful and
irregular rnethods of derivation and compofition,
come to deviate widely from the primitive
character of their roots, and to lofe all analogy
or refembiance in found to the things fignified.
In this flate we now find Language. Words, as
we now employ them, taken in the general,
jmay be confidered as lyrabols , riot as imitations ;
^S arbitrary, or inftituted, not natural figns
pf ideas. But there can be no doubt , I think ,
that Language , the nearer we remount to its
xife among men , v/ill be found to partake
jnore of a natural expreffion. As it could be
originally formed on nothing but iniitation, it
would , in its primitive flate , be more pid;uref-!
que; rnuch more barren indeed, and narrow in
the circle of its terrns , than now; but fo far as
it went, more expreflive by found of the thing
fignilied. This, then, may be affunied as one

" ralis eft. Eadem ratio eft in Grjecis quoque vocibus
«juam ei^c in noftris animadvertimus. "

A. Gellius , Nod. Atticae , lib. x. cap. 4.

OF LANGUAGE. 121

charader of the firfl; ftate , or beginnings, of L E c T.
Language , among every favage tribe. VI.

A SECOND charader of Language, in its early
ftate, is drawn from the manner in wliich words
were at firft pronounced, or uttered, by men.
Literjedions I fhowed, or paffionate exclamations,
were the firft elements of Speech. Men laboured
to communicate their feelings to one another, by
thofe expreffive cries and geftures which nature
taught them. After words , or names of objeds, . '

began to be invented , this mode of fpeaking,
by natural figns, could not be all at once difufed*
For Language, in its infancy, muft have been
extremely barren ; and there certainly was a
period, among all rude nations, when conver*
fation was carried on by a very few words,
intermix;ed with many exclamations and earneft
geftures. The fmall flock of words which men
as yet pofiefTed , rendered thofe helps abfolutely
necelTary for explaining their conceptions ; and
rude, uncultivated men, not having always at
hand even the few words which they knew,
would naturally labour to make themfelves un-
derftood, by varying their tones of voice, and
accompanying their tones with the moft fignifi-
cant gefticulations they could make. At this
day, when perfons attempt to fpeak in any
Language which they polTefs imperfectly , they
have recourfe to all thefe fupplemental methods,
in order to render themfelves more intelligible.
The plan too , according to which I have
fiiown, that Language was originally conflrucled^

12^ RISE AND PROGRESS

L E G T. Upon refemblance or analogy , as far as was
VI. poffible, to the thing figniHed , would naturally
lead men to utter their words with more empha-
fis and force , as long as Language was a fort of
painting by means of found. For all thofe
reafons this may be affumed as a prniciple, that
the pronunciation of the earlieft Languages was
accompanied with more gefticulation , and with
more and greater inflexions of voice , than what
we now ufe; there was more action in it; and
it was more upon a crying or fmging tone.

To this manner of fpeaking , neceffity firft
gave rife. But we muft obferve , that , after
this neceffity had, in a great meafure, ceafed,
by Language becoming, in procefs of time,
more extenfive and copious , the ancient manner
of Speech ftill fubfifted among many nations;
and what had arifen from neceffity , continued
to be ufed for ornament. Wherever there was
much fire and vivacity in the genius of nations,
they were naturally inclined to a mode of con-
verfation 'I which gratified the imagination fo
much; for, an imagination which is warm, is
always prone to throw both a great deal of
action , and a variety of tones , into difcourfe.
Upon this principle , Dr. Warburton accounts
for fo much fpeaking by adion , as we find
among the Old TePtaraent Prophets; as when
Jeremiah breaks the potter's velTel, in fight of
the people ; throws a book into the Euphrates ;
puts on bonds and yokes ; and carries out his
houfehold ftufi ; all which , he imagines , might

OF LANGUAGE. 123

"be fignificant modes of expreffion , very natural L E c T.
in thofe ages , when men were accuftomed to VI.
explain themfelves fo much by actions and
geftures In like manner , among the Northern
American tribes , certain motions and adlions
were found to be much ufed as explanatory of
their meaning, on all their great occafions of
intercourfe with each o'ther; and by the belts
and firings of wampum , which they gave and
received, they were accuftomed to declare their
meaning, as much as by their difcourfes.

With regard to inflexions of voice, thefe
are fo natural, that, to fome nations, it has
appeared eafier to exprefs different ideas , by
varying the tone with which they pronounced
the fame word, than to contrive words for all
their ideas. This is the pradice of the Chinefe
in particular. The number of words in their
Language is faid not to be great; but, in fpeak-
ing , they vary each of their words on no lefs
than five different tones , by which they make
the fame word fignify five different things. This
inuft give a great appearance of mufic or fmging
to their Speech. For thofe inflexions of voice
"which , in the infancy of Language , were no
more than harih or diffonant cries, muft, as
Language gradually polifhes , pafs into more
fmooth and mufical founds ; and hence is formed,
what we call- the Profody of a Language.

li is remarkable, and deferves attention, that,
both in the Greek and Roman Languages, this
mufical and gefticulacing pronunciation wa.s

124 RISE AND PROGRESS

L E c T. retained in a very high degree. Without having-
VI. attended to this , we will be at a lofs in under-
ftanding feveral paffages of the Claffics, which
relate to the public fpeaking , and the theatrical
entertainments, of the ancients. It appears, from
many circumftances , that the profody both of
the Greeks and Romans , was carried much
farther than ours, or that they fpoke with more,
and flronger , inflexions of voice than we ufe.
The quantity of their fyllables was much more
fixed than in any of the modern Languages, and
rendered much more fenfible to the ear in
pronouncing them. Befides quantities , or the
difference of fhort and long, accents were placed
upon moft of their fyllables , the acute , grave ,
and circumflex ; the ufe of which accents we
bave now entirely loft, but which, we know,
determined the fpeaker's voice to rife or fall.
Our modern pronunciation muft have appeared
to them a lifelefs monotony. The declamation
of their orators , and the pronunciation of their
adors upon the ftage, approached to the nature
of recitative in mufic; was capable of being
marked in notes, and fupported with inflruments ;
as feveral learned men have fully proved. And
if this was the cafe, as they have fhown, among
the Romans , the Greeks , it is well known ,
"were ftill a more mufical people than the Ro-
mans, and carried their attention to tone and
pronunciation much farther in every public
exhibition. Ariftotle j in his Poetics , confiders

OF LANGUAGE. 125

the mufic of Tragedy as one of its cLicf and L E c t.
moft effential parts. VI.

The cafe was parallel with regard to geftures :
for ftrong tones , and animated geftures , we
may obferve , always go together. Action is
treated of by all the ancient critics , as the chief
quality in- every public fpeaker. The aclion,
both of the orators and the players in Greece
and Rome , was far more vehement than what
we are accuftomed to. Rofcius would have
feemed a madman to us. Gefture was of fuch
confpquence upon the ancient ftage, that there
is reafon for believing , that , on fome occafions,
the fpeaking and the ading part were divided,
which , according to our ideas , would form a
ftrange exhibition; one player fpoke the words ,
in the proper tones , while another performed
the correfponding motions and geftures. We
learn from Cicero , that it was a conteft be-
tween him and Rofcius , whether he could ex-
prefs a fentiment in a greater variety of phrafes,
or Rofcius in a greater variety of intelligible
fignificant geftures. At laft, gefture came to
engrofs the ftage wholly; for, under the reigns
of Auguftus and Tiberius, the favourite enter-
tainment of the Public was the pantomime,
which was carried on entirely by mute gefticul-
ation. The people were moved , and wept at
it, as much as at tragedies ; and the paffion for
it became fo ftrong , that laws were obliged to
be made, for reftraining the Senators from ftu-*
ijyin^ the pantomime art. Now^ though in

126 RISE AND PROGRESS

L E c T. declamations and theatrical exhibitions, both
VI. tone and gefture were , doubtlefs , carried much
farther than in common difcourfe ; yet pubUc
fpeaking, of any kind, mufb, in^ every country,
bear fome proportion to the manner that is
iifed in converfation ; and fuch pubhc entertain-
ments as I h^-ve now mentioned, could never
have been relinked by a nation , whofe tones and
geftures , in difcourfe , were as languid as ours.
When the Barbarians fpread themfeives over
the Roman Empire , thefe more phlegmatic
nations did not retain the accents , the tones
and geftures , which neceffity at firft introduced,
and cuftom and fancy afterwards fo long fupport-
ed, in the Greek and Roman Languages. As
the Latin Tongue was loft in their idioms, fo
■ the character of fpeech and pronunciation began
to be changed throughout Europe. Nothing of
the fame attention was paid to the mufic of
Language , or to the pomp of declamation , i^nd
theatrical adion. Both converfatipn and public
fpeaking became more fimple and plain , fuch
as we now find it ; without that enthufiaftic
mixture of tones and geftures, which diftinguifh-
ed the ancient nations. At the reftoration of
letters, the genius of Language was fo much
altered , and the manners of the people become
fo different, that it was no eafy matter to un-
derftand what the Ancients had faid , concerning
their declamations and public fpedlacles. Our
plain manner of fpeaking, in thefe northern coun-
tries , expreffes the paffions with fufficient energy,

OF LANGUAGE. 127

to move thofe who are not accuftomed to any L e c t.
more vehement manner. But , undoubtedly , VL
more varied tones , and more animated motions ,
carry a natural expreffion of warmer feehngs.
Accordingly , in different modern Languages,
the profody of Speech partakes more of mufic,
in proportion to the livelinefs and fenfibility
of the people. A Frenchman both varies
his accents , and gefliculates while he fpeaks,
much more than an Englifliman. An Italian, a
great deal more than either. Mufical pronun-
ciation and expreffive gefture are, to this day,
the diftindion of Italy.

From the pronunciation of Language, let us
proceed , in the third place , to confider of the
Style of Language in its moft early ftate , and
of its progrefs in this refpe(fl alfo. As the man-
ner in which men at firft uttered their words ,
and maintained converfation , was flrong and
expreffive , enforcing their imperfedly expreffed
ideas by cries and geflures ; fo the Language
which they ufed , could be no other than full
of figures and metaphors, not corredl indeed,
but forcible and piclurefque.

We are apt, upon a fuperficial view, to
imagine, that thofe modes of expreffion w^hich
are called Figures of Speech, are among the chief
refinements of Speech ^ not invented till after
Language had advanced to its later periods , and
mankind were brought into ■ a polifhed ftate ;
and that, then, they were deviled by Orators
and Rhetoricians. The quite contrary of this

128 RISE AND PROGRESS

L E C T. is the truth. Mankind never employed fo many
YL figures of Speech , a$ when they had hardly any
words for exprefiing their meaning.

FoPv firft, the want of proper names for every
objedl, obhged them to ufe one name for many;
and , of courfe , to exprefs themfelves by com-
parifons, metaphors, allufions, and all thofe
fubftituted forms of Speech which render Lan-
guage figurative. Next , as the objedls with
which they were moft converfant, were the
fenfible , material objed;s around them , names
would be given to thofe objeds long before
words were invented for fignifying the difpofi-
tions of the mind , or any fort of moral and
intelledual ideas. Hence, the early Language
of men being entirely made up of words
defcriptiv^e of feniible objects , it became ,
of neceffity, extremely metaphorical. For, to
fignify any deQre or paflion , or any act or feel-
ing of the mind , they had no precife expreflion
\vhich was appropriated to that purpofe , but
were under a neceffity of painting the emotion ,
or paffion , which they felt , by allufion to thofe
fenfible objeds which had mofl relation to it,
and which could render it, in fome fort, vifible
to others.

But it was not necefTlty alone » that gave
rife to this figured llyle. Other circumftances
alfo , at the commencement of Language, con-
tributed to it. In' the infancy of all focieties, men
are much under the dominion of imagination
and paffion. They live fcattered and difperfed ;

they

OF LANGUAGE. 129

they are unacquainted with the couffe of L e c t*
things; they are, every day, meeting with new Vi.
and ftrange objeds. Pear and furprifc, wonder
and aftonilhment, are their moft frequent paffions^ ^
Their Language will necelfariiy partake of this
charader of their minds. They will be prone
to exaggeration and hyperbole. 1 hey will be
given to defcribe every thing with the ftrongefh
colours, and moft vehement expreffions ; infinitely
more than men living in the advanced and cul-
tivated periods of Society , when their imagin-
ation is more chaflened, their paffions are more
tamed , and a wider experience has rendered the
objeds of life more familiar to them. Lven the
manner in which I before fhowed that the firfb
tribes of men uttered their words, would have
confiderable influence on their ft) le. Wherevef
ftrong exclamations, tones, and geflures, enref
much into converfation , the imagination is al-
ways more exercifed; a greater effort of fancy
and paffion is excited. Confequently , the fancy
kept awake, and rendered more fprightly by
this mode of utterance, operates upon ftyiej
and enlivens it more.

These reafonings are confirmed by undoubted
fads. The ftyle of all the moft early Languages^
among nations who are in the firft and rud^
periods of Society, is found, without exceptioil,
to be full of figures ; hyperbolical and pidurefqug
in a high degree. We have a ftriking inftancS
of this in the American Languages ^ which are
known, by the moft authentic accounts ^ to bi

Vol. L K

I30 RISE AND PROGRESS

E c T. figurative to excefs. The Iroquois and Illinois,
VL carry on their treaties and public tranfaclions
with bolder metaphors, and greater pomp of
llyle , than we ufe in our poetical produdlions*.

Another remarkable inftance is , the flyle
of the Old Teftament, which is carried on by
conftant allufions to fenfible objeds. Iniquity^

* Thus, to give an inftance of the fingular ftyle of
thefe nittions , the Five Nations of Canada , when enter-
ing on a treaty of peace with us , exprefTed themfelves
by their Chiefs, in the following Language; " We are
*' happy in having buried under ground the red axe,,
^' that has fo often been dyed v/ith the blood of our bre-
"' thren. Now, in this fort , v/e inter the axe , and plant
" the tree of Peace. We plant a tree ^ whofe top vv-ill
" reach the Sun ; and its branches fpread abroad , fo
" that it fhall be ften afar off. May its growth never
" be ftifled and choked ; but may it fliade both your
*•' country and ours with its leaves ! Let us make faft its
*■' roots , and extend them to the utmoil of your colonies.
" If the French fhould come to fhake this tree , wewould
" know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our
" country. May the Great Spirit allow us to reft in tran-
^' quillity upon our mats , and never again dig up the axe to
" cut down the tree of Peace ! Let the earth be trod
" hard over it, where it lies buried. Let a ftrong ftreani
'' run under the pit, to wafii the evil away out of our
^' light and remembrance. — The fire that had long burned
" in Albany is extinguifhed. The bloody bed is wafhed
" clean, and the tears are wiped from our eyes. We
" now renew the covenant chain of friendfliip. Let ic
*■' be kept bright and clean as filver, and not fufPered
'' to contrad: any ruft. Let not any one pull away his arm from
*' it." Thefe paflages are extracted from Cadwalkider
*' Colden's Hiilory of the Five Indian Nations ; where
■ it appears , from the authentic documents he produces y
^hatfiich is their genuine ftyle.

OF LANGUAGE. 131

or guilt, is expreffed by^' a fpotted garment; " L E c T#
mifery , by " drinking the cup of aftonilh- VL
ment ; " vain purfuits , by " feeding on afhes ;"
a fmful life , by " a ei-ooked path ;" profperity,
by " the candle of the Lord fhining on our
head;" and the like, in innumerable inftances.
Hence, we have been accuftomed to call this-
fort of ftyle , the Oriental Style; as fancying it
lobe peculiar to the nations of the fcaft: Where-
as , from the American Style , and from many
other inftances , it plainly appears not to have
been peculiar to any one region or climate ; but
to have been common to all nations , in certain
periods of Society and Language.

Hence, we may receive fome light concern-
ing that feeming paradox, that Poetry is more
ancient than Profe. I fhall have occafion to
difcufs this point fully hereafter , when I come
to treat of the Nature and Origin of Poetry. At
prefent, it is fufficient toobferve, that, from what
has been faid, it plainly appears, that the ftyle of
all Language muft have been originally poetical ;
ftrongly tindured with that enthufiafm , and
that defcriptive, metaphorical expreffion which
diftinguiflies Poetry.

As Language , in its progrefs , began to grow
more copious, it gradually loft that figurative
ftyle, which was its early charadter. When
men were furnifhed with proper and familiar
riames for every objedj both fenfible and moral,
they were not obliged to ufe fo many circum-
locutions. Style became more precife, and, of

133 RISE AND PROGRESS

i, E c T. courfe, more fimple. Imagination too, in pro-
VI. poriion as Society advanced, had lefs influence
over mankind. The vehement manner of fpeak-
ing by tones and geftures, became not fo uni-
verfal. The underllanding was more exercifed ;
the fancy, lefs. Intercourfe among mankind be-
coming more extenfive and frequent, clearnefs
of ftyle , in fignifying their meaning to each
other, was the chief objed; of attention. In
place of Poets , Philofophers became the inftrud;-
ors of men; and, in their reafonings on all
different fubjedls, introduced that plainer and
fimpler flyle of compoGtion, which we now
call Profe. Among the Greeks , Pherecydej
of Scyros , the mafter of Pythagoras, is recorded
to have been the firft, who, in this fenfe, com-
pofed any writing in profe. The ancient meta-
phorical and poetical drefs of Language , was
now laid afide from the intercourfe of men , and
referved for thofe occafions only, on which
ornartient was profefTedly fludied.

Thus I have purfued the Hiftory of Language
through fome of the variations it has undergone :
I have confidered it, in the firft ftrudlure , and
compofition , of words ; in the manner of utter-
ing or pronouncing words ; and in the ftyle and
character of Speech. I have yet to confider it
in another view, refpeding the order and ar-.
rangement of words ; when we fliall find a pro-
gress to have taken' place, fimilar to what I have
been now illuftrating.

LECTURE VIL

RISE AND PROGRESS of LANGUAGE,

AND OF WRITING.

HEN we attend to the order in whicli L s c T.
words are arranged in a fenten<:e , or figoificant VIL
propofition , we rind a very remarkable diiterence
between the ancient and the modern Tongues.
Tiie coniideration of this will ferve to unfold
farther the genius of Language , and to fhow
the caufes of thofe alterations , which it has
undergone, in the progrefs of Society,

In order to conceive diftinclly the nature of
that alteration of which I now fpeak , let us go
back, as we did formerly, to the m oil early
period of Language. Let us figure to ourfelves
a Savage, who beholds fome objedl , fuch as
fruit, which raifes his defire, and who requefts
another to give it to him, Suppofnig our Sa-
vage to be unacquainted with words , he would,,
in that cafe , labour to make himielf be under-
ftood, by pointing earneftiy at the objed; which
he defired , aad utteruig at the fame time a
paffioiiate crv. Suppofmg him to have acquired

K 3

134 PROGRESS OF LAKGUAGE,

L E c T. words , the firfl; word which he uttered would ,
VII. ' of coiirfe, be the name of that objed. He would
not exprefs himfelf, accorduig to our Engliih or-
der of conftruclion , " Give me fruit," but ac-
cording to the Latin order, " Fruit give me" ;
*' Fru6tum da mihi : " For this plain reafon , that
his attention was wholly diredled towards fruit,
the defired objedl. This was the exciting idea ;
the objed; which moved hipi to fpeaki and, ojf
cdurfe, would be the firft named. Such an
arrangement is precifely putting into words the
gefture which nature taught the Savage to make,
before he was acquainted with words ; and there-
fore it may be depended upon as certain , that
he would {all mod readily into this arrange-
ment.

Accustomed now to a different method of
ordering our words , we call this an inverfion ,
and confider it as a forced and unnatural order
of Speech. But though not the moft logical , it
is, however, m one view, the moft natural
order ; becaufe , it is the order fuggefted by
imagination and defire, which always impel us
to mention their objedl in the lirft place. W©
might therefore conclude, a priori, that this
would be the order in which words were moffc
commonly arranged at the beginnings of Lan-
guage; and accordingly we find, in faifl, that,
in this order , words are arranged in moft of the
^cient Tongues ; as in the Greek and the La-
tin i and it is faid alfo , in the Ruffian , the

PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 155

Sclavonic, the Gaelic, and feveral of the Ameri- Leg 11.
I can Tongues. Yll. '

In the Latin Language , the arrangement
which moft commonly obtains , is , to place firft,
in the fentence , that word which expreffes the
principal objed of the difcourfe , together with
its circumftances ; and afterwards, the perfon , or
the thing-, that ads upon it. Thus Salluft,
comparing together the mind and the body;
*' Aiiimi imperio , corporis fervitio , magis
utimur ;" which order certainly renders the
fentence more lively and ftriking , than when it
is arranged according to our Englilh conftrudion;
"We make moft ufe of the diredion of the
'■foul, and of the fervice of the body." The
Latin order gratities more the rapidity of the
imagination, which naturally runs firft to that
which is its chief objed; and having once named /

it, carries it in view throughout the reft of the
fentence. In the fame manner in poetry :

Juftum & tenaceni propofiti viruni,
Non dvium ardor prava jubentiimij

Non vultus inftantis tyranni ,

Mente quatit foiida. — ■

Every perfon of tafte muft be fenfible, that here
the words are arranged with a much greater re-
gard to the figure which the feverai objeds
make in the fancy, than our Englifli conftrudion
admits ; which would require the " Juftum &
tenacem propofiti yirum , "though, undoubtedlv?

K 4

t^S PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.

L 5 c T. the capital objecft in the fentence, to be thrown
VII, into the laft place.

1 HAVE faid , that, in the Greek and Romaa
Languages, the moft common arrangement is,
to place that firft Munich Ilrikes the imagiaatioa
of the fpeaker moft. 1 do not, however, pre-.
tend that this holds without exception. Some-
times regard to the harmony of the period
requires a different order ; and in Languages
fufceptible of fo much mufical beauty, and
pronounced with fo much tone and modulation
as were ufed by thofe nations, the harmony of
periods was an objedl carefully ftudied. Somer
times too , attention to the perfpicuity , to the
force , or to the artful fufpenfion of the fpeaker's
meaning, alter this order; and produce fuch va-
rieties in the a rangement , that it is not eafy
to reduce them to any one principle. But , in
general this was the genius and character of
iTQoft of the ancient Languages, to give fuch full
liberty to the collocation of words , as allowed
them to affume whatever order was moft agree-
able to the fpeaker's imagination. The Hebrew
is , indeed , an exception : which , though not
altogether without inverfions, yet employs them
Jefs frequently, and approaches nearer to the
Enghfli conftruction, than either the Greek or
the Latin.

All the modern Languages of Europe have
adopted a different arrangement from the ancient.
In their profe compofitjons , very little variety
is admitted in the collocation of words; they

PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 13;

are moftly fixed to one order; and that order is, L e c T.
what may be called , the Order of the Under- VIL
ftanding. They place firft in the fentence, the
perfon or thing which fpeaks or acls ; next , its
adion ; and laftly , the objed of its adion. So
that the ideas are made to fucceed to one another
not according to the degree of importance
which the feveral objeds carry in the imagin-
ation ,^-*but according to the order of nature and
of time.

An Enghfli writer, paying a compliment to
a great man , would fay thus : '^' It is impoffible
" for me to pafs over , in filence , fuch remark-
*' able mildnefs , fiich fingular and unheard of
" clemency , and fuch unufual moderation , in
" the exercife of fupreme pov/er." Here we
have , firft prefented to us , the perfon who
fpeaks. "It is impoffible for me;" next, what
that perfon is to do , " impoffible for him to pafs
*' over in Jilence ;" and laftly, the objed which
moves him fo to do, "the mildnefs, clemency,
*' and moderation of his patron." Cicero , from
whom I have tranfiated thefe words , juft reverf-
les this order; beginning with the objed , placing
that firfl; which was the exciting, idea in the
fpeaker's mind, and ending with the fpeaker and
his adion. " Tantam raanfuetudinem , tarn in-
■' ufitatam inauditamque clementiam, tantumque
*' in fumma poteftate rerum omnium modum,
*' tacitus nuUo modo prxterire poiTum." (Orat,
pro Marcell.)

The Latin . order is more animated ; the

i3g PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE,

li E c T. Engiilh , more clear and diftind:. The Romans
Vll. generally arranged their words according to the
order in which the ideas rofe in the fpeaker's
imagination. We arrange them according to the
order in which the underftanding dired;s thofe
ideas to be exhibited , in fucceffion , to the view
of another. Our arrangement . therefore , appears
to be the confequence of greater refinement
in the art of ' Speech ; as far as clearnefs in
communication is underfkood to be the end of
Speech.
' In poetry , where we are fuppofed to rife
above the ordinary ftyle , and to fpeak the
Language of fancy and paffion , our arrangement
is not altogether fo limited; but fome greater
"liberty is allowed for tranfpofition, and inver-
fion. Even there , however , that liberty is con-
fined within narrow bounds, in comparifon of
the Ancient Languages. The different modern
Tongues vary from one another , in this refpecl.
The French Language is, of them all, the moft
determinate in the order of its words , and ad-
mits the leaft of inverfion , either in profe or
poetry. The Englifh admits it more. But the
Italian retains the moft of the ancient tranfpofi-
tive charadler . though one is apt to think, at the
expence of a little obfcurity in the ftyle of fome
of their authors , who deal moft in thefe tranf-
pofitions.

It is proper , next , to obferve , that there is
one circumftajice in the ftruclure of all the mo-
'4ern Tongues, which, of neceffity, limits their

PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 139

arrangement, in a great meafure, to one fixed L e c T.
and determinate train. We have difufed thofe VII*
differences of termination , which, in the Greek
and Latin , diftinguilhed the feveral cafes of
nouns , and tenfes of verbs ; and which , thereby,
pointed out the mutual relation of the feveral
words in a fentence to one another , though the
related words were disjoined, and placed in
different parts of the fentence. This is an al-
teration in the flrud;ure of Language, of which
I fliall have occafion to fay more in the next
Ledlure. One obvious effed; of it is , that we
have now , for the moft part, no way left us to
lliow the clofe relation of any two words to one
another in meaning, but by placing them clofe
to one another in the period. For inftance ; the
Romans could, with propriety, exprefs themfel-.
ves thus :

Extinclum nymphs crudeli funere Daplmini
Flebant. ■ —^

Becaufe " Hxtinelum & Daphnim ," being both
in the accufative cafe , this £ho\ved , that the
adjedtive and the fubfliantive were related to
each other, though placed at the two extremities
of the line; and that both were governed by
the adive verb "Flebant," to which "nymphse'*
plainly appeared to be the nominative. The
different terminations here reduced all into order,
and made the connedion of the feveral words
perfedlly clear. But let us tranflate thefe" words
literally into Eriglifh , according to . the Latin

' 140 PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.

t; E c T. arrangement ; " Dead ,the nymphs by a cruel fate
VII. 33 Daphnis lamented ; and they become a perfed:
riddle , in which it is impoffible to find any
meaning.

It was by means of this contrivance , which
obtained in almoft all the ancient Languages, of
varying the termination of nouns and verbs, and
thereby pointing out the concordance and the
government of the words, in a fentence, that
they enjoyed fo much liberty of tranfpofition ,
'- and could marllial and arrange their words in
any way that gratified the imagination, or
pleafed the ear. When Language came to be
^ modelled by the northern nations who overran
the empire, they dropped the cafes of nouns,
and the different termination oF verbs , with the
more eafe , becaufe they placed no great value
upon the advantages arifmg from fuch a ftrudure
of Language. T hey were attentive only to
clearnefs , and copioufnefs of expreffion. 1 hey
neither regarded much the harmony of found,
nor fought to gratify the imagination by the
collocation of words. They ftudied folely to
cxprefs themfelves in fuch a manner as fhould
exhibit their ideas to others in th« moft diftind
and intelligible order. And hence, if our Lan-
guage, by reafon of the fimple arrangement of
its words , poifeffes lefs harmony , lefs beauty ,
and lefs force, than the Greek or Latin ; it is,
^owever, in its meaning, more obvious and plain.
Thus I have fhown what the natural Progrefs
of Language has been, in feveral material articles;

PPvOGP^ESS OF LANGUAGE. i4.r

and this account of the Genius and Progrefs of L e c t.
J^anguage , lays a foundation for many; obferva- VII.
tions , both curious and ufeful. From what has
been faid , in this, and the preceding LecTture,
it appears, that Language was, at firft, barren
in words, but defcriptive by the found of thefe
words; aud expreffive in the manner of uttering
tliem, by the aid of fignificant tones and geftures:
Style was figurative and poetical : arrangement
was fanciful and lively. It appears, that, in
all the fucceffive changes which Language has
undergone, as the world advanced, the under-
flanding has gained ground on the fancy and
imagination. The Progrefs of Language, in
this refpe:!, refembles the progrefs of age ia
man. The imagination is moft vigorous and
predominant in youth; with advancing years,
the imagination cools, and the underilanding
ripens. Thus Language, proceeding from fterility
to copioufnefs, hath, at the fame time, pro-
ceeded from vivacity to accuracy ; from fire and
enthufiafiU, to coolnefs and precifion. Thofe
charafters of early Language, defcriptive found ^
vehement tones and geftures, figurative flyle,
and inverted arrangement, all hang together,
have a mutual inHuence on each other; and have
all gradually given pUce, to arbitrary founds,
calm pronunciation, fimple ftyle, plain arrange-
ment. Language is become, in modern times,
more corred, indeed, and accurate, but, however,
lefs ftriking and animated : In its ancieniT flate ,

i^z RISE AND PROGRESS

r. E c T. more favourable to poetry and oratory; in its
Vil. prefent , to reafon and philofophy.

Having finifhed my account of the Progress
of Speech, I proceed to give an account of the"
Progrefs of Writing, which next demands out
notice; though it will not require fo full a
difcuffion as the former fubjed;.

Next to Speech, Writing is, beyond doubt,
the moft ufeful art of which men are pofieffed.
It is plainly an improvement upon Speech, and
therefore muft have been pofterior to it in order
of time. At firft, men thought of nothing more

t than communicating their thoughts to one an-

oj:her, when prefent, by means of words , or
.founds, which they uttered. Afterwards, they
devifed this further method, of mutual commu-
nication with one another, when abfent , by-
means of marks or charadlers prefented to the
eye, which we call Writing,

WRiTTiiN charadlers are of two forts. They
are either figns for things, or figns for words.
Of the former fort, figns of things, are the
pictures , hieroglyphics , and fymbols , employed
by the ancient nations ; of the latter fort , figns
for words, are the alphabetical characters, now
employed by all Europeans. Thefe two kinds
of Writing are generically , and effentially ,
diftincl.

Pictures were, undoubtedly, the firfl: eflay
towards AV^riting. Imitation is fo natural to
man, that, in all ages, and a'mong all nations,
Come methods have obtained, of copying or

OF WRITING. 143

tracing the likenefs of fenfible objeds, Thofe L e C T,
methods would fooa be employed by men for "V'lL
giving fome imperfed; information to others, at
a diftance, of what had happened; or, for
preferving the memory of facls which they
fought to record. Thus, to fignify that one
man had killed another, they drew the figure
of one man ftretched upon the earth, and of
another ftanding by him with a deadly weapon
in his hand. We find, in fadl, that, when
America was firft difcovered, this was the only-
fort of Writing known in the kingdom of
Mexico. By hiftorical picftures, the Mexicans
are faid to have tranfmitted the memory of the
moft important tranfadlions of their empire.
Thefe, however, muft have been extremely
imperfed: records ; and the nations who had no
other, muft have been very grofs and rude.
Pidures could do no more than delineate
external events. They could neither exhibit
the connedions of them, nor defcribe fuch
qualities as were not vifible to the eye , nor
convey any idea of the difpofitions , or words,
of men.

Tu fupply, in fome degree, this defed,
there arofe , in procefs of time, the invention
of what are called , Hieroglyphical Charaders ;
which may be confidered as the fecond ftage
of the Art of Writing. Hieroglyphics confift
in certain fymbols , which are made to ftand for
invifible objeds , on account of an analogy or
j'efemblance, which fuch fymbols were fuppofed

144 RISE AND PROGRESS

t E c T. to bear to the objecls. ,Thus, an eye, was
VII. the hieroglyphical fymbol of knowledge; a
circle, of eternity , which has neither beginning,
nor endw Hieroglyphics, therefore, were a more
refined and extenfive fpecies of painting. Fidlures
delineated the refemblance of external vifible
objects. Hieroglyphics painted in vifible objedls,
by- analogies taken from the external world.

AmuNG the Mexicans, were found fome
traces of hieroglyphical characl;ers, . intermixed
with their hiftorical pictures. But Egypt wa.s
the country where this fort of Writing was
moft ftudied, and brought into a regular art.
In hieroglyphics , was conveyed all the bcafted
wifdom of their priefts. According to the pro-
perties which they afcribed to animals ,.^ or the
quahties with which they fuppofed natural ob-
jeds to be endowed, they pitched upon them
to be the emblems, or hieroglyphics, of moral
objeAs ; and employed them in their Writing
for that end. Thus , ingratitude was denomin-
ated by a viper ; imprudence , by a fly ; wifdom,
by an ant; vidory, by a hawki a dutiful child,
by a ftork; a man univerfally iliunned, by an
eel , which they fuppofed to be found in company
with no other fifli. Sometimes they joined
together two or more of thefe hieroglyphical
characters i as, a ferpent -with, a hawk's head;
to denote nature , with God prefiding over it.
But, as many of thofe properties of objecT:s
which they affumcd for the foundation of their
hieroglyphics, were merely imaginary, and thft ,

allufioris

OF WRITING. 145

allufions drawn from tlierti were forced and L e c T^
ambiguous; as the conjundion of their characters Vil»
rendered them ftill more obfcure, and muft have
exprelTed very indiftinclly the connedions and
relations of things; this fort of Writing could
be no other than aenigmatical, and confufed, ia
the higheft degree ; and muft have been a very
imperfect vehicle of knowlefdge of any kind^

It has been imagined, that hieroglyphics weife
an invention of the Egyptian priefts, for con-
cealing their learning from common view ', and
that, upon this account, it was preferred by
them to the alphabetical method of Writing,
But this is certainly a miftake. Hieroglyphics
Were, undoubtedly, employed, at firfk , from
neceffity , not from choice or refinement ; and
would never have been thought of, if alphabet-
ical characters had been known. The nature of
the invention plainly Ihows it to have been one
of thol^e grofs and rude eflays towards Writiiig,
which were adopted in the early ages of the
world ; in order to extend farther the firft
method which they had employed of funple
picT:ures , or reprefentations of vifible objecils*
Indeed , in after^times , when alphabetical
Writing was introduced into Egypt, and the
hieroglyphical was , of courfe ^ fallen into dilufe,
it is known , that the priefls ftill empidyed the
hieroglyphical charaders , as a facred kind of
Writing j now become peculiar to themfelves,
and ferving to give an air of myflery to their
learning and religion. In t^is ftate, ^he Greeks

Vol. I. JU

146 RISE AND PROGRESS

X/ E c T. found hleroglyphical Writing, when they began

VII. to have intercourfe with Egypt; and fome o£

their writers miftook this ufe , to which they

found it applied , for the caufe that had given

rife to the invention.

As Writing advanced, from pid:ures of vifible
objects, to hieroglyphics, or fymboJs of things
invifible ; from thefe latter , it advanced , among
fome nations , to fimple arbitrary marks which
ftood for objects , though without any refem-
blance or analogy to the objecfls fignined. Of
this nature was the method of Writing pradlifed
among the Peruvians. They made ufe of fmall
cords, of different colours; and by knots upon
thefe, of various fizes, and differently ranged,
they contrived figns for giving information,
and communicating their thoughts to one an-
other.

Of this nature alfo , are the written charadlers,
which are ufed to this day , throughout the
great empire of China. The Chinefe have no
alphabet of letters, or fimple founds, which
compofe their words. But every fmgle character
v/hich they ufe in Writing, is fignificant of an
idea; it is a mark which ftands for fome one
thing, or ob^ed:!;. By confequence, the number
of thefe .charadters muft be imraenfe. It muft
correfpond to the whole number of objeds, or
ideas, which they have occafion to exprefs ; that
is , to the whole number of words which they
employ in Speech ; nay, it mufl; be greater than
the number of words j one xyord, by varying

O F W R I T I N G. 147

the tone, with which it is fpoken, may be L e c x.
made to fignify feveral different things. They Yll,
are faid to have feventy thoufand of thofe writ-
ten charaders. To read and write them to per-
fection, is the fludy of a whole life; which
fubjeds learning, among them , to infinite difad-
vantage; and muft have greatly retarded the
progrefs of all fcience.

Concerning the origin of thefe Chinefe char-
aders , there have been different opinions, and
much controverfy. According to the moft pro-
bable accounts , the Chinefe Writing began, like
the Egyptian, with pictures, and hieroglyphical
figures. Thefe figures being, in progrefs, ab-
breviated in their form , for the fake of writing
them eafily, and greatly enlarged in their num-
ber , paffed , at length , into thofe marks or
characters which they now ufe, and which have
fpread themfelves through feveral nations of the
llaft. For we are informed, that the Japanefe,
the Tonquinefe, and the Conxans, who fpeak
different languages from one another, and from
the inhabitants of China, ufe, however, the
fame written charadlers with them; and, by this
means, correfpond intelligibly with each other
in Writing, though ignorant of the Language
fpoken in their feveral countries ; a plain proof,
that the Chinefe charaders , like hieroglyphics,
independent of Language, are figns of things,
not of words.

We have one inftance of this fort of Writing
in Europe. Our cyphers, as they are called, or

L 3

148 RISE AND PROGRESS

L E c T. arithmetical figures, i, 2, 3, 4, &c. which we
VII. have derived from the Arabians, are fignificant
marks, precifely of the fame nature with the
Chinefe chara(5lers. They have no dependence
on words; but each figure reprefents an objecH:;
reprefents the number for which it ftands; and,
accordingly, on being prefented to the eye, is
equally underflood by ail the nations who have
agreed in the ufe of thefe cyphers, by Italians,
Spaniards, French, and Englifli, however differ-
ent the Languages of thofe nations are from one
another, and whatever different names they give,
in their refpedlive Languages , to each numer-
ical cypher.

As far, then, as we have yet advanced , no-
thing has appeared which refembles our letters,
or which can be called Writing, in the fenfe
we now give to that term. What we have
liitherto feen , were all diredl figns for things ,
and made no ufe of the medium of found , or
w^ords; either figns by reprefentation , as the
Mexican pidures ; or figns by analogy, as the
Egyptian hieroglyphics ; or figns by inftitution ,
as the Peruvian knots, the Chinefe charadlers ,
and the Arabian cyphers.

At length , in different nations , men became
fenfible of the imperfedlion , the ambiguity, and
. the tedioufnefs of each of thefe methods of
communication with one another. They began
to confider, that by employing figns which
flrould ftand not diredly for things, but for the
words wh^ch they ufed in Speech for naming;^

OF WRITING. 149

thefe things, a confiderable advantage would Leg t,
be gained. For they refieded farther, that Vll.
though the number of words in every Language
be , indeed , very great , yet the number of
articulate founds, which are ufed in compofing
thefe words, is comparatively fmall. The fame
fimple founds are continually recurring and re-
peated ; and are combined together , in various
ways , for forming all the variety of words
which we utter. They bethought therafelves,
therefore , of inventing figns, not for each word,
by itfeif, but for each of thofe fimple founds
which we employ in forming our words ; and ,
by joining together a few of thofe figns , they
faw that it would be pradicabie to exprefs , in
Writing ^ the whole combination of founds
which our words require.

The firfl; ftep , in this nev/ progrefs , was the
invention of an alphabet of fyllables , v^hich
probably preceded the invention of an alphabet
of letters , among fome of the ancient nations;
and which is faid to be retained , to this day ,
in Ethiopia , and fome countries of India. By
fixing upon a particular mark, or character, for
every fyllable in the Language, the number of
charasfters, neceffary to be ufed in Y/riting, was
reduced within a much fmaller compafs than the
number of words in the Language. Still, how-
ever , the number of characters was great;
and mu ft have continued to render both reading
and writing very laborious arts. Till, at'laffc,
fome happy genius arofe; and tracing the founds

L 3

150 RISE AND PROGRESS

L E c T. made by the human voice , to their mofl fimple
.VII. elements , reduced them to a very few vowels
and confonants, and, by affixing to each of thefe
the figns which we now call Letters, taught
men how, by their combinations, to put into
N Writing all the different words , or combinations
of found, which they employed in Speech. By
being reduced to this fimpHcity , the art of
Writing was brought to its higheft ftate of per-
fedion; and, in this ftate, we now enjoy it in
all the countries of Europe.

To whom we are indebted for this fublime
and refined difcovery , does not appear. Con-
cealed by the darknefs of remote antiquity, the
great inventor is deprived of tfcofe honours
■which would ftill be paid to his memory, by all
the lovers of knowledge and learning. It appears;
from the books which Mofes has written, that,
among the Jews , and probably among the
Egyptians , letters had been invented prior to
liis age. The univerfal tradition among the
ancients is , that they were firft imported into
Greece by Cadmus the Phoenician; who, ac-
cording to the common fyftem of chronology,
•was contemporary with Jofliua ; according to
Sir Ifaac Newton's fyftem , contemporary with
King David, As the Phoenicians are not knowrt
to have been the inventors of any art or fcience,
though , by means of their extenfive commerce,
they propagated the difcovefies made by other
nations, the moft probable and natural account
t)f the origin of alphabetical charaders is , that

OF WRITING. 151

they took rife in Egypt, the fird civilized L e c f.
kingdom of which we have any authentic VII.
accounts , and the great fource of arts and poHty
among the ancients. In that country, the favour-
ite ftudy of hieroglyphical charaders, had
directed much attention to the art of Writing.
Their hieroglyphics are known to have been
intermixed with abbreviated fymbols , and arbi-
trary marks; whence, at laft , they caught the
idea of contriving marks , not for things merely,
but for founds. Accordingly, Plato (in Phxdro)
exprefsly attributes the invention of letters to
Theuth, the Egyptian, who is fuppofed to have
been the Hermes, or Mercury, of the Greeks.
Cadmus himfelf, though he paffed from Phcenicia
to Greece , yet is affirmed , by feveral of the
ancients , to have been originally of Thebes in
Egypt. Moft probably , Mofes carried with
him the Egyptian letters into the land of Canaan;
and there being adopted by the Phoenicians,
^vho inhabited part of that country, they were
tranfmitted into Greece.

The alphabet which Cadmus brought into
Greece was imperfed, and is faid to have
contained only fixteen letters. The reft were
afterwards added , according as figns for proper
founds were found to be wanting. It is curious
to obferve, that the letters which we ufe at this
day, can be traced back to this ve«ry- alphabet
of Cadmus. The Roman alphabet, which obtains
with us , and with moft of the European nati-
ons , is plainly formed on the Greek , with a

" L 4

155 RISE AND PROGRESS

Jj E c T, few variations. And all learned men obfervc,
VII. that the Greek charaders , efpecially according
to the manner in -which they are formed in the
oldeil infcriptions, have a remarkable conformity
with^the Hebrew or Samaritan charadlers, which,
it is agreed , are the fame with the Phoenician,
or the alphabet of Cadmus. Invert the Greek
charadlers from left to right , according to the
Phoenician and Hebrew manner of Writing, and
they are nearly the fame. Befides the confor-
mity of figure , the names or denominations of
the letters alpha, beta, gamma, &c. and the
order in which the letters are arranged , in all
the feveral alphabets, Phoenician, Hebrew,
Greek , and Roman, agree fo much, as amounts
to a demonflration, that they were all derived
originally from the fame fource. An invention
fo ufpful and fimple , ^vas greedily received by
mankind, and propagated with fpeed and facility
through many different nations.

Th!'. letters were, originally, written from
tlie right hand towards the left; that is, in a
contrary order to v/hat we now pradife. This
manner of Writing obtained among the Afiy-
rians , Phoenicians , Arabians , and Hebrews ;
and from forae very old infcriptions, appears
to have obtained alfo among the Greeks.
Afterwards, the Greeks adopted a new method,
(pf writing their lines alternately from the right to
the left, and from the left to the right, which
was called Boujlrophi don ; or, writing after the
manner in which oxen plow the ground. Of

OF W R I T I N G,- 153

this, feveral fpecimens ftill remain ; particularly the L E C T.

infcription on the famous Sigsean monument; and VII.

down to the days of Solon, the legiflator of

Athens, this continued to be the common method

of Writing. At length , the motion from the

left hand to the right being found more natural

and commodious, the pr-adlice of Writing, in

this diredion , prevailed throughout all th^ ^

countries of Europe. -

Writing -was long a kind of engraving,
Pillars, and tables of ftone , were firft employed
for this purpofe , and afterwards , plates of the
fofter metals, fuch as lead. In proportion as
Writing became more common, lighter and more
portable fubftances- were employed. The leaves,
and the bark of certain trees, v/ere ufed in fome
countries; and in others, tablets of wood,
covered with a thin coat of foft wax , on which
the imprelTion was made with a ftylus of iron.
In later times , the hides of animals , properly
prepared and polillied into parchment , were the
moft common materials. Qur prefent method
of writing on paper, is an invention of no great^
€r antiquity than the fourteenth century.

Thus I have given forpe account of the Pro-
grefs of thefe two great arts , Speech and Wri-
ting; by which men's thoughts are communicat-
ed , and the foundation laid for all knowledge
and improvement. Let us conclude the fubject,
with comparing, in a few w^rds , fpoken Lan-
guage, and written Language ; or words utter-
ed in our hearing,, with words reprefented to

154 RISE AND PROGRESS

I, E c T. the eye ; where we fhall find feveral adx'antages'
Vir, and difadvantages to be balanced on both fides.
The advantages of Writing above Speech are,
that Writing is both a more extenfive, and a
more permanent method of communication.
JVIore extenfive ; as it is not confined within
the narrow circle of thofe who hear our words,
but, by means of written charadlers, we can
fend our thoughts abroad, and propagate them
through the world; we can lift our voice, fo
as to fpeak to the mofb diflant regions of the
earth. More permanent alfo; as it prolongs this
voice to the moft dtftant ages; it gives us the
means of recording our fentiments to futurity,
and of perpetuating the inftrudive memory of
paft tranfadlions. It likewife affords this advan-
tage to fuch as read, above fuch as hear, that,
having the written characters before their eyes,
they can arreft the fenfe of the writer. They
can paufe, and revolve, and compare, at their
leifure , one paffage with another; whereas, the
voice is fugitive and paffing ; you muft catch
the words the moment they are uttered, or you
lofe them for ever.

But, although thefe be fo great advantages
of written Language, that Speech, without
Writing, would have been very inadequate for
the inftrudlion of mankind ; yet we muft not
forget to obferve, that fpoken Language has a
great fuperiority over written Language , in
point of energy or force. The voice of the
living Speaker, makes an imprefTion on the

OF WRITING. 15^

mind, much ftronger than can be made by the L E c Ti
perufal of any Writing. The tones of voice, the Mlh
looks and gefture . which accompany difcourfe,
and which no Writing can convey, render dif-
courfe , when it is well managed, infinitely more
clear, and more.expreffive , than the moft accurate
Writing. For tones, looks, and geftures, are natural
interpreters of the fentiments of the mind. They
remove ambiguities; they enforce impreffions ;
they operate on us by means of fympathy ,
which is one of the moft powerful inftruments
of perfuafion. Our fympathy is always awakened
more , by hearing the Speaker , than by reading
his works in our clofet. Hence , though Writing
may anfwer the purpofes of mere inftrudtion,
yet all the great and high efforts of eloquence
muft be made , by means of fpoken , not of
%vritten3 Language.

LECTURE VIII.

STRUCTURE of LANGUAGE.

E E c T. ^^FTER having given an account of the Rife
VIII. and Progrefs of Language , I proceed to treat of
its Structure, or of General Grammar. The
Strudure of Language is extremely artificial ;
and there are few fciences , in which a deeper,
or more refined logic , is employed , than in
Grammar. It is apt to be flighted by fuperficial
thinkers, as belonging to thofe rudiments of
knowledge , which were inculcated upon us in
our earlieft youth. But what was then incul-
cated before we could comprehend its principles,
would abundantly repay our ftudy in maturer
years; and to the ignorance of it, mufk be attri-
buted many of thofe fundamental defeds which
appear in writing.

FiiW authors have written with philofophical
accuracy on the principles of General Grammar;
and , what is more to be regretted , fewer ftill
have thought of applying thofe principles to the
Englifh Language. While the French Tongue
has long been an objed: of attention to many
able and ingenious writers of that nation , v/ho

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 157

have confidered its conftrudlion, and determined L e c T.
its propriety with great accuracy , the Genius YIII.
and Grammar of the Englifh , to the reproach of
the country , have not been ftudied with equal
care , or afcertained with the fame precifion.
Attempts have been made , indeed , of late , to-
wards fupplying this defccfl; and fome able wri-
ters have entered on the fubjecl ; but much
remains yet to be done.

I DO not propofe to give any fyftem , either
of Grammar in general , or of Englifh Grammar
in particular. A minute difcuflion of the niceties
of Language -would carry us too much off
from other objedls , which demand our attention
in this courfe of Ledures. But I propofe to
give a general view of the chief principles relat-
ing to this fubjed , in obfervations on the fe-
veral parts of which Speech or Language is
compofed ; remarking, as 1 go along, the pecu-
liarities of our own Tongue. After which , I
fhall make fome more particular remarks on the
Genius of the Englilh Language.

The firft thing to be confidered, is, the di-
vifion of the feveral parts of Speech. The effen-
tiai parts of Speech are the fame in all Lan-
guages. There rauft always be fome words which
denote the names of objedls, or mark the fub-
je(fl of difcourfe ; other words , which denote
the qualities of thofe objeds, and exprefs what
we affirm concerning them; and other words,
which point out their connexions and relations.
Hence, fubflantives , pronouns, adjedtives , verbs,

158 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E C T. prepofitions , and conjnnclions , muft neceffiirily
Vlll. be found in all Languages. The moft fimple
and comprehenfive divifioa of the parts of
Speech is , into fubftantives , attributives , and
connedives *. Subftantives , are all the words
which exprefs the names of objecls, or the
fubjedls of difcourfe ; attributives , are all the
words which exprefs any attribute, property, or
ad;ion of the former ,• connedives , are what
exprefs the connedions , relations , and depen-
dencies, which take place among them. The
common grammatical divifion of Speech into
eight parts; nouns, pronouns . verb?, participles, |
adverbs, prepofitions, interjedlions , and con-
jundtions , is not very logical , as might be
eafily fliewn; as it comprehends, under the
general term of nouns , both fubflantives and
adjedives , which are parts of Speech generically

* Quindlilian informs us , that this was the moft anc'ent
divifion. " Turn videbit quot & qucE funt partes orationis,
" Q^uanquam de numero paruni convenit, Veteres enini ^
" quorum fuerant Ariftoteles atque Theodicles , verba modo ,
*' & nomina, & convindiones tradiderunt. Videlicet,
" quod in verbis vim fermonis, in nominibus materiam
" (. quia alterum ell quod loquimur , alterum de quo ioqui-
" mur ) , in convindionibus aureni complexum eorum elTe
" judicarunt ; quas conjunftiones a plerifque dici fcio ; fed
" hsc videtur ex TwhrrtJM magis propria tranfiatio. Paulatim
" a philofophicis ac maxime aftolcis, auctus eftnumerus;
" ac primum convinctionibus articuli adjedi ; poft pracpo-
*' fitiones ; nominibus , appellatio , deinde pronomen ;
*' deinde miftum verbo paiticipium ; ipfis verbis, adver-
" bia. Lib. I. cap, iv.

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 159

and efTentially diftind; while it makes a feparate L e c T.
part of fpeech of participles, which are no other "VIII.
than verbal adjedives. However , as thefe are
the terms to which our ears have been moft
familiarifed , and, as an exad logical divifion is
of no great confequence to our prefent pnrpofe,
it will be better to make ufe of thefe known
terms than of any other.

We are naturally led to begin with the con-
fideration of fubftantive nouns , which are the
foundation of all Grammar, and may be con-
fidered as the moft ancient part of Speech. For,
affuredly, as foon as men had got beyond fimple
interjedions , or exclamations of paffion, and
began to communicate themfelves by difcourfe,
they would be under a neceffity of affignlng
names to the objeds they faw around them ;
which, in Grammatical Language, is called, the
Liyention of fubftantive nouns *. And here ,

* I do not mean to afTert , that , among all nations ,
the firll: invented words were fimple and regular fubftantive
nouns. Nothing is more difficult and uncertain , than to
afcertain the precife fteps by which men proceeded in the
formation of Language. Names for objeds muif , doubt-
lefs , have arifen in the moft early ftages of Speech. But ,
it is probable , as the learned author of the Treatife , On
the Origin and Progrefs of Language, has fhown (vol.
i. p. 371. 99?.), that, among fevenil favage tribes , fome
of the fii'ft articulate founds that were formed , denoted a
whole fcntence rather than the name of a particular o'j-
ject ; conveying fome information , or expr effing fome de-
fires or fears , fuited to the circumftances in which that
tribe was placed , or relating to the bufmefs they had-

i6o STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE

I. E c T. at our firft fetting out , fomewhat curious occurs.
VIII. The indiv^idual objedls which furround us , are
infinite ill number. A favage, wherever he
looked , beheld forefts and trees. To give fepa-
rate names to every one of thefe trees , would
have been an endJefs and impradicable undertak-
ing. His firft objedl was , to give a name to
that particular tree , whofe fruit relieved his
hunger , or whofe lliade prote6led him from the
fun. But obfervnng , that though other trees were
diftinguifhed from this by peculiar qualities of
fize or appearance, yet, that they alfo agreed
and refembled one another, in certain common

moft frequent occafion to carry on ; as, the lion is coming ^
the river is fwelling , &c. Many of their firft words , it
is likewife probable, were not fimple fubftantive nouns,
but fubflantives , accompanied with fome of thofe attri-
butes , in conjunftion w'ith which they were < moft fre-
quently accuftonied to behold them ; as, the great bear,
the little hut , the wound made by the hatchet , &c. Of
all which , the Author produces inftances from feveral of
the American Languages; and it is, undoubtedly, fuitable
to the natural courfe of the operations of the human mind ,
thus to begin with particulars die moft obvious to fenfe ,
and to proceed , from thefe , to more general exprelTions.
He likewife obferves, that the words of thofe primitive tongues
are far from being , as we might fuppofe them , rude and
fhort, and crowded with confonants ; but, on the contrary ,
are, for the moft part, long words, and full of vowels.
This is the confequence of their being formed upon the
natural founds which the voice utters with moft eafe,
a little varied and diftinguifhed by articulation; and he
fhows this to hold , in fa6t , among moft of the barbarous
Languages which are known.

qualities,

STRUCTURE- OF LANGUAGE. i6i

qualities , fuch as fpringing from a root , and L e c T.
bearing branches and leaves , he formed , in his IV.
mind, fome general idea of thofe common quali-
ties , and ranging all that poiTefied them under
one clafs of objects , he called that whole clafs
Q tree. Longer experience taught him to fubdivid'e
this genus into the feveral fpecies of oak , pine
alli , and the reft , according as his . obfervatioh
extended to the feveral qualities in which thefe
trees agreed or differed.

But , ftill , he made ufe only of general terrns
in Speech. For the oak , the pine , and the afli ,
were names of whole claffes of objeds ; each of
which included an immenfe number of undiftin-
guiiiied individuals. Here then , it appears , that
though the formation of abftradl , or general
conceptions , is fuppofed to be a difficult operation
of the mind ; fuch conceptions mufl have entered
into the very nrft formation of Language, for,
if we except only the proper names of perfons ,
fach as Csef^ir , John , Peter , ail the other fub-.
ftantive nouns which we employ in. difcourfe,
are the names , not of individual objects , but of
very extenfive genera, or fpecies of objects ; as,
man, lion, houfe , river, &c. We are not,
however , to imagine , that this invention of
general , or abftract terms , requires any great
exertion of metaphyfical capacity : For , by
whatever fteps the mind proceeds in it , it is
certain , that , when men have once obferved
refemblances among objecls , they are naturally
inclined to call all thofe which referable one

Vol. L M

i6ij STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

1 E c T. another , by one common name ; and of courfe ,
Till. to cLifs them under one fpecies. We may daily
obferve this pradifed by children , in their iiril
attempts towards acquiring Language.

But now , after Language had proceeded as
far as I have defcribed , the notification which
it made of objeds was ftill very imperfed : For,
V/hen one . mentioned to another, in difcourfe ,.
any fubftantive noun ; fuch as , man , lion , or
tree, how was it to be known which man, which
lion, or which tree he meant, am.ong the many com-
prehended under one name ? Here occurs a very
curious , and a very ufeful contrivance for fpeci-
fying the individual objccl intended , by means
of that part of Speech called , the Article.

The force of the Article coniiits , in ])ointing,
or fmgling out from the common mafs , the
individual of which v/e mean to fpeak. In Englifii,
V/e have two Articles, a and the ; a is more
general and unlimited ; the more definite and
fpecial. A is much the fame w^ith one ^ and marks
only any one individual of a fpecies ; that indi-
vidual being either unknown , or left undetcr-
irined; as, a lion, a king. The ^ which poh'efl'es
more properly the force of the Article, afcertiu'ns
foi;ne knov/n or determined individual of the
' fpecies ; as , the lion , the king.

Articles are words of great ufe in Speech.
In fom.e Languages, however, they are not
found. The Greeks have but one Article, o vj 75,
which anfwers to our definite, or proper Article,
the. They have no word which anfwers to our

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 163

Article a ; but they fupply its place by the L e c T
abfence of their Article : Thus, B^o-iAeuff fignifies, VIIL
a King ; 0 ^acriMvg^ the king. The Latins have
no Article. In the room of it , they employ
pronouns, as, hie, ille, iftc , for pointing out
the objeds which they want to diftinguifh.
" Nofter fermo," fays Quincliliaii, "articulos
35 non defiderat, ideoque in alias partes orationis
fparguntur." This, however, appears to me a
defect in the Latin Tongue; as x\rticles contribute
much to the clearnefs and precifion of Language.
In order to illuftrate this , remark, what d'l^
ference there is in the meaning of the following
expreffions in Engliili , depending wholly on the
different employment of the Articles: "The foil
35 of a king. — The fon oF the king — A fon o£
„ the king's." Each of thefe three phrafes has
an entirely different meaning, which I need not
explain , becaufe any one who underflands the
Language, conceives it clearly at firft hearings
/ through the different application of the Articles,
a and the. Whereas, in Latin, " Fihus regis j"^
is wholly undetermined ; and to explain , in
which of thefe three fenfes it is to be underftood,
for it may bear any of them, a circumlocution
of feveral words muft be ufed. In the fame
manner, "Are you a king ?" "Are you the
„ king?" are queftions of quite feparate iinport;
which, however, are confounded together in
the Latin phrafe , " es-ne tu rex ?" " Thou art
35 a man," is a very general and harmlefs pofi-
tion i but, "thou art iAe man," is an aflerticn.

j64 structure OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. capable, we know, of ftriking terror and remorfe
VIII. into the heart. Thefe obfervations illuftrate the
force and importance of Articles: And, at the
fame time, I gladly lay hold of any opportunity
of ilipwing the advantages of our own Language.
Besides this quality of being particularifed
by the Article , three affedions belong to fub-
flantive nouns, number, gender, and cafe,v/hich
require our confideration.

Number diflinguilLcs them as one, or many,
of the fame kind, called the Singular and Plural;
a diftinc^ion found in all Languages, and which
muft , indeed, have been coeval with the very
infancy of Language ; as there were few things
which men had more frequent occafion to ex-
prefs, than the difference between one and many.
For the greater facility of expreffing it, it^has, in
all Languages , been marked by forae variation
made upon the fubllantive uoun ; as wc fee in Etig-
jifli, our plural is commonly Formed by the addi-
tion of the letter, S. In the Hebrew, Greek, and
fome other ancient Languages, "we find, not only
a plural, but a dual number ; the rife of which
may very naturally be a.ccounted for , from
ft'parate terms of numbering not being yet in-
vented, and one, two, and many, being all,
or , at ieaft , the chief numeral diflindions which
men, at firft, had any occafion to take notice of
Gender, is an affection of fubftantive nouns,
which will lead us into more difcuffion than
number. Gender, being founded on the dillincli-
on of the tv/o fexes, it is plain, that, in a.

STRUCTtJRE OF LANGUAGE. 165

proper feiife, it can only find place in the names L e c t.
of living creatures, which admit the diftindion 'VIIL
of male and female ; and , therefore , can be
ranged under the mafculine or feminine genders.
All other fubftantive nouns ought to belong,
to what grammarians call, the Neuter Gender,
which is meant to imply the negation of either
fex. But, with refpecl to this diftribution, fome-
what fmgular hath obtained in the ftrudure of
Language. For, in correfpondence to that
diflindlion of male and female fex, which runs
through all the clafTes of animals, men have, in
moft Languages , ranked a great number of
inanimate objeds alfo, under the like diflindions
of mafculine and feminine. Thus we find it,
both in the Greek and Latin Tongues. Gladim,
a fword , for inftance , is mafculine ; fagitta , an
arrov/ , is feminine ; and this affignation of fex
to inanimate objeds, this diftindion of them
into mafculine and feminine, appears often to
be entirely capricious; derived from na other
principle than the cafual ftrudure of the Lan-
guage, which refers to a certain gender, words
of a certain termination. Li the Greek and La-
tin, however, all inanimate objeds are not
diftributed into mafculine and feminine , but
many of them are alfo clafied, where all of them
ought to have been, under the neuter gender j
as , templum , a church ; fedik , a feat.

But the genius of the French and Italian
Tongues differs, in this refped , from the Greek
^nd Latin. Li the French and Italian, from

M a

i66 STRUCTUP.E OF LANGUAGE,

L E c T. ^vhafcever caufe it has happened, fo it is, that
VIII. the neuter gender is wholly unknown , and that
all their names of inanimate objedls are put upon
the fame footing with living creatures; and
diftributed , without exception, into mafculine
and feminine. The French have two articles ,
the mafculine le, and the feminine la; and one
or other of thefe is prefixed to all fubftantive
nouns in the Language, to denote their gender.
The Italians make the fame univerfal ufe of
their articles il and /o , for the mafculine; and
la , for the feminine.

In the Engh"fb Language, it is remarkable
that there obtains a peculiarity quite oppofite.
In the French and Italian, there is no neuter
gender. In the Englifli, when we ufe common
difcourfe , all fubftantive nouns, that are not
names of living creatures, are neuter, without
exception. He, she, and it, are the marks of
the three genders; and we always ufe it, in
fpeaking of any objedi; where there is no fex ,
or where the fex is not known. The EngliHi
is , perhaps , the only Language in the known
world (except the Chinefe, Vvdnich is faid to
agree with it in this particular), where the
diftindion of gender is properly and philo-
fophically applied in the ufe of words, and
confined, as it ought to be, to m^ark the real
diftincliions of male and female.

Hence arifes a very great and fignal advantage
of the Engliih Tongue, which it is of confequence

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 167

to remark *. Though in common difcourfe > L e c T^.
as I have already obferved , we employ only the "VIII.
proper and literal diftindion of fexes ; yet the
genius of the Language permits us , whenever it
will add beauty to our difcourfe , to make the
names of inanimate objedls mafculine or feminine
in a metaphorical fenfe; and when we do f o , v/c
are underfi;ood to quit the literal ftyle , and to
tife one of the figures of difcourfe.

For inftance ; if I am fpeaking of virtue, in
the courfe of ordinary converfation , or of flricl
reafoning, I refer the word to no fex or gender;
1 fay, ,5 Virtue is its own reward, " or, "it is
" the law of our nature. " But if I chufe to rife
into a higher tone; if- I feek to cmbellilh and
animate my difcourfe , 1 give a fex . to virtue ,
1 fay , "She defcends from Heaven ; " "fhe alone
** confers true honour upon man," "her gifts
" are the only durable rewards. " By this me^ns ,
we have it in our power to vary our flyle at
pleafure. By making a very flight alteration , we
can perfonify any objed that we chufe to intro-
duce with dignity ; and by this change of man-
ner, we give warning, that we are palling from
the ftrid and logical , to the ornamented and
jhetorical ftyle.

This is an advantage which , not only every
poet, but every good writer and fpeaker in profe,
is, on many occafions , glad to lay hold of , and

* The following obfervations on the metaphorical ufe of
genders , in the Englifli Language , are taken from Rir. • Harris's
Hermes,

M 4

i6S STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c-T. ii-n prove : ^^^ it is an advantage peculiar to onr
VIII. Tongue; no other Language poffefles it. For,
in other Languages , every word has one fixed
gender, mafculine, feminine, or neuter, which
can , upon no occafion , be changed ; c^^ostjj for
inftance , in Greek, virtus in Latin, and la vertu
in French, are uniformly feminine. She, muft
always be the pronoun anfwering to the word ,
whether you be writing in poetry or profe, whe-
ther you be ufing the ftyle of reafoning, or that
of declamation: whereas, in Englilli, we can
either exprefs ourfelves with the philofophical
accuracy of giving no gender to things inanimate ;
or by giving them gender, and transforming them
into perfons, we adapt them to the flyle of
poetry, and, when it is proper, we enliven profe.

It deferves to be further remarked on this
fubjedl, that, when we employ that liberty which
our Language allows , of afcribing fex to any
inanimate objed , we have not, however, the liber-
ty of mjaking it of what gender we pleafe , maf-
cuhne or feminine ; but are , in general , fubjed;-
ed to fome rule of gender which the currency
of Language has fixed to that objcd. The
foundation of that rule is imagined, by Mr, Har-
ris, in his " Philofophical Enquiry into the Prin-
ciples of Grammar, " to be laid in a certain dif-
tant refemblance, or analogy, to the natural, dif-
tindion of the two fexes.

Thus, according to him, we commonly give
the mafculine gender to thofe fubPcantive nouns
ufed figuratively, which are confpicuous for the
attributes of imparting, or communicating; which

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 169

are by nature ftrong and efficacious , either to good L e c t.
or evil; or which have a claim to fome eminence, VIII.
whether laudable or not. Thofe again , he
imagines, to be generally made feminine, which
are confpicuous for the attributes of containing,
and of bringing forth ; which have more of the
paffive in their nature, than the adtive ; which
are peculiarly beautiful, or amiable; or which
have refpe(fl to fuch exceffes as are rather femin-
ine than mafculine. Upon thefe principles he
takes notice, that the fu« is always put in the
mafculine gender with us; the moon in the
feminine , as being the receptacle of the fun's
light. The earth is, univerfally, feminine.
A fiiip , a country , a city , are like wife made
feminine, as receivers, or containers. God, in
all Languages , is mafculine. Time , \ve
make mafculine, on account of its mighty
efficacy; virtue, feminine, from its beauty, and
its being the objed of love. Fortune is always
feminine. Mr. Harris imagines, that the reafons
which determine the gender of fuch capital
words as thefe, hold in moft other Languages,
as well as the Englilh. This, however, appears
doubtful. A variety of circumftances , which
feem cafual to us , becaufe we cannot reduce
them to principles, mud, unqueflionably , haye
influenced the original formation of Lan.e:u3ges ;
and in no article whatev^er does Language appear
to have been more capricious , and to have
proceeded lefs according to fixed rule , than in
the impofition of gender upon things inanimate;
efpecially among fuch nations as have applied

r;ro STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. the diftindion of mafculine and feminine to all
VIII. fubftantive nouns.

Having difcuffed gender, I proceed , next, to
another remarkable peculiarity of fubftantivc
nouns, which, in the fiyle of grammar, is called,
their declenfion by cafes. Let us, firft, confider
what cafes fignify. In order to underftand this,
it is neceflary to obferve , that, after men had
given names to external objedls , had particu-
larifed them by means of the article , and didin-
guilhed them by number and gender, ftill their
Language remained extremely imperfed, till they
had devifed fome method of expreffing the
relations which thofe objeds bore, one towaids
another. They would find it of little ufe to
have a name for man, lion, tree, river, without
being able, at the fame time, to fignify how
thefe ftood with refpecl to each other; whether,
as approaching to, receding from , joined with,
and the like. Indeed , the relations which objedis
bear to one another, are immenfely numerous;
and therefore, to devife names for them all,
muft have been among the laft and moft difficult
refinements of Language. But , in its moft early
periods, it was abfolutely neceffary to exprefs,
in fome way or other , fuch relations as were
moft important, and as occurred moft frequently
in common Speech. Hence the genitive , dative,
and ablative cafes of nouns, which exprefs the
noun itfelf , together with thofe relations, of, ?o,
from, Tpith, and by; the relations which, of all
others , we have the mofb frequent occafion to
mention. The proper idea then of cafes in

STPJJCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 171

declenfion , is no other than an expreffion of Leg t,
the ftate , or relation , A^'hich one objed bears YIIL
to another, denoted by fome variation made
npon the name of that object , moft commonly
in the final letters, and by fome Languages, i'n
the initial.

All Languages however, do not agree in thi«;
mode of expreffion. The Greek , Latin , and
feveral other Languages, life declenfion. The
Englifh , French , and Italian , do not ; or , at
moft , ufe it very imperfedlly. In place of the
variations of cafes , thefe modern Tongues ex-
prefs the relations of objects, by means of the
woids called Prepofitions, which are the names
of thofe relations , prefixed to the name of the
objed;. Englilh nouns have no cafe whatever,
except a fort of genitive, commonly formed by
the addition of the letter S to the noun; as when
we fay " Dryden's Poems, " meaning the Poems
of Dryden. Our perfonal pronouns have alfo a
cafe , which aniwers to the accufative of the
Latin, 7, me^ — /le , him ^ — -rpho ^ -vchom. There is
nothing, then, or at leaft very little, in the
Grammar of our Language, which correfponds
to declenfion in the ancient Languages.

Two queftions , refpecling this fubjed , may
be put, Firft , Which of thefe methods of
expreffing relations, whether that by declenfion.,
or that by prepofitions , was the moft ancient
ufage in Language? And next, Which of them
has the beft efTed? Both methods, it is plain,
are the fame as to the fenfe , and differ only in
form. For the figniiicancy of the Roman Lan-

1-2 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. guage would not have been altered , though the
VIII. nouns, like ours, had been without cafes, -
provided they had employed prepofitions ; and
though, to exprefs a difciple of Plato, they had
faid , ^' Difcipulus de Plato," like the modern
Italians-, in place of " Difcipulus Platonis. "

Now, with refped; to the antiquity of cafes,
although they may , on firft view , feem to
conftitute a more artificial method than the
other , of denoting relations , yet there are
ilrong reafons for thinking that this vv^as the
earlieft method pradifed by men. We find,
in fact, that declenfions and cafes are ufed in
moft of what are called the Mother Tongues,
or Original Languages, .as well as in the Greek
and Latin. And a very natural and fatisfying
account can be given why this ufage fliould
have early obtained. Relations are the moft
abftrad and metaphyfical ideas of any which
men have occafion to form , when they are
confidered by themfelves , and fcparated from
the relpcted objed:. It would puzzle any man j
as has been well obferved by an Author on this
fubjed, to give a difcind account of what is
meant by fuch a word as of, or from ,• when it
ftands by itfelf, and to explain all that may be
included under it. The firfl rude inventors of
Language, therefore, would be long of arriving
at fuch general term.s. In place of confidering
^ny relation in the abftrad, and devifing a name
for it, they would much more eafily conceive
it in conjundion with a particular objed; and

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 173

they would exprefs their conceptions of it, by L e c T.
varying the name of that objed; through all the VIIL
different cafes; hominis , of a man; ho/nini, to a
man; homine , with a man, &c.

But, though this method of declenfioa
was , probably , the only method w^hich men
employed, at firft, for denoting relations , yet,
in progrefs of time, many other relations being
obferved , befides thofe which are fignified by
the cafes of nouns, and men alfo becoming more
capable of general and metaphyseal ideas, fepar-
ate names were gradually invented for all the
relations which occurred, forming that part of
Speech which we now call Prepofitions. Pre-
pofitions being once introduced , they were
found to be capable of fupplying the place of
cafes , by being prefixed to the nominative of
the noun. Hence, it came to pafs , that, as
nations were intermixed by migrations and cbn-
quefts , and were obliged to learn , and adopt
the Languages of one another, prepofitions fup-
planted the ufe of cafes and declenfions. When
the Italian Tongue, for inflance, fprung out of
the Roman, it was found more eafy and fim-ple,
by the Gothic nations, to accommodate a few
prepofitions to the nominative of every noun,
and to fay, di Roma, al Roma ^ di Carthago, al
Carthago , than to remember all the variety of
terminations, Roma, Romam , Carthaginis , Cartho-
ginem , which the ijfe of declenfions required in
the ancient nouns. By this progrefs we can give
a natural account how nouns, in our njodem

ir4 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. Tongues, come to be fo void of declcnfion: A
VIII. progrefs which is fully illuftrated in Dr. Adiim
Smith's ingenious DilTertation on the Formation
of Languages.

With regard to the other queftion on this
fubjed;, Which of thefe two methods is of the
greateft utiHty and beauty? we ihall find advan-
tages and difadvantages to be balanced on both
fides. There is no doubt that ^ by abolilhing
cafes , we have rendered the flrudure of modern
Languages more fimple. We have difembarra (Ted
it of all the intricacy which arofe from the
different forms of declenfion , of which the
Romans had no fev/er than five ; and from all
the irregularities in thefe feveral declenfions.
We have thereby rendered our Languages more
eafy to be acquired, and lefs fubjed; to the
perplexity of rules. But, though the fimplicity
and eafe of Language be great and ePcimabie
advantages, yet there are alfo fuch difadvantages
attending the modern method , as leave the
balance, on the whole, doubtful, or rather
incline it to the fide of antiquity.

For. in the llrfl place, by our conftant ufe
of prepofitions for expreffing the relations of
things, we have filled Language v/ith a raul-»
titude of thofe little words, which are eternally
occurring in every fentence, and may be thought
thereby to have encumbered Speech , by an ad-
dition of terms ; and by rendering it more
prolix , to have enervated its force. In the
iecond place , we have certainly rendered the

.STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 175

found of Language lefs agreeable to the ear, by Leg t.
depriving it of that variety and fweetnefs, which YIIL
arofe from the length of words, and the change
of terminations, occafioned by the cafes in the"
Greek and Latin. But, in the third place, the
moft material difadvantage is , that , by this
abohtion of cafes, and by a fimilar alteration, of
which I am to fpeak in the next Lecfture , in
the conjugation of verbs , we have deprived
ourf^is^es of that liberty of tranfpofition in the
arrangement of words, v/hich the Ancient Lan-
guages enjoyed.

In the Ancient Tongues , as I formerly ob-
ferved, the different terminations, produce.d by
declenfion and conjugation , pointed out the
reference of the feveral words of a fentence to
one another, without the aid of juxtapofition ,
fuffered them to be placed, without ambiguity,
in whatever order was moft fuited to give
emphafis to the meaning , or harmony to the
found. But now , having none of thofe marks
of relation incorporated with the words them-
felves, we have no other way left us,of fhowing
what words in a fentence are moft clofeiy con-
neded in meaning, than that of pla.cing them
clofe by one another in the, 'period. The meaning
of the fentence is brought cut in feparate mem-t
bers and portions; it is broken dovv-n and divided.
Whereas the ftrudlurc of the Greek and Pvoman
fentences, by the government of their nouns and
verbs, prefented the meaning fo intervroven and
compounded in all its parts ^ as to make us

176 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

1

L E c T. perceive it in one nnited view. The clofing
VIII. words of the period afcertained the relation of
each member to another; and all that ought to
•be connedcd in oar idea, appeared conneded in
the expreffion. Hence, more brevity, more vivacity,
more force. That luggage of particles (as an inge-
nious Author happily expreffes it), which we
are obliged always to carry along with us, both
clogs ftyle, and enfeebles fentiment *.

Frokouns are the clafs of words moft nearly
related to fubriantive nouns; being, as the name

* " The various terminations of the liime word , whether
'•' verb or noun , are always conceived to be more inti-
" mutely conneded with the term which they ferve tolenc;th-
" en, than the additional, detached , and in themfel/es
" inngnificant particles , which we are obhged to employ
'■ as connectives to our figniiiCant words. Our method
"■ gives almoft the fame expofure to the one as to the
" other , making the lignificant parts , and the infignificant
" equally confpicuous ; theirs , much oftener links , as it
"■ were , the former into the latter , at once preferving their
'' ufe , and hiding their weakneis. Our modern Languages
" may , in this refped , be compared to the art of the
-*■' carpenter in its rudeft ftate ; when the union of the
" materials, employed by the artifan , corJd be eifeded only
*•' by the help of thofe external and coarfe implements , pins ,
"■ nails, and cramps. The ancient Languages rcfemble the
" fame art in its moil: improved (late , after tlie inven-
" tion of dovetail joints , grooves , and mortices ; when
" thus all the principal jundions are effeded, by forming pro-
" perly , the extremities , or terminations , of the pieces
" to be joined. For , by means of thefe , the union of
" the parts is readered clofer, while that by which that
" union is produced , is fcarcely perceivable." The Philo-
"^' lophy of Rhetoric. By Dr. Campbell, vol. ii. p. 412.

imports ,

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 177

imports, reprefentatives, or fubftitutes, of noilns. L e c Tr

/j th'ou^ he^ she ^ and zt , are no other than an VIII.

abridged way of naming the perfons, or objedsj

with "which we have immediate iniercourfej or

to which we are obliged frequently to refer ia

difcourfe. Accordingly, they are fubjedl to the

fame modifications with fubftantive nouns ^ of

number, gender, and cafe. Only, with refped

to gender, we may obferve, that the pronouns

of the firft and fecond perfon^ as they are called,

/and rhou^ do not appear to have had the diftindli-

ons of gender given them in any Language ; for

this plain reafon , that , as they always refer to

perfons who are prefent to each other, when

they fpeak, their fex muft appear , and therefore

needs not be marked by a mafculine or feminine

pronoun. But, as the third perfon may be abfentj

or unknown , the diftindlion of gender there

becomes neceffary ; and accordingly, in Engliili j

it hath all the three genders belonging to it; he-,

she , it. As to cafes ; even thofe Languages

which have dropped them in fubftahtive nouns ^

fometimes retaui more of them in pronouns ^ for

the fake of the greater readinefs in expreffing

relations; as pronouns are words of fuch frequent

occurrence in difcourfe. In Englilh , moffc of

our grammarians hold the perfonal pronouns to

have two cafes , befides the nominative 1 a

genitive, and an accufative , — / , mine ^ ms;-^

thou ^ thine, thee i —he^ his ^ hirrii -who ^ 'whoje ^ '

Tphom.

Vol. L N

178 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. In tlie firft ftage of Speech, it is probable that
VIII. the places of thofe pronouns were fupplied , by
pointing to the objcd: when prefent, and naming
it when abfent. For one can hardly think that
pronouns were of early invention; as they are
words of fach a particular and artificial nature.
JT, thou, Ae, U, it is to be obferved , are not
names peculiar to any fingle objed, but fo very
general, that they may be applied to all perfons,
or objedts , whatever, in certain circumftances.
if, is the moft general term that can poffibly be
conceived , as it may ftand for any one thing
in the univerfe , of which we fpeak. At the
fame time, thefe pronouns have this quality,
that , in the circumftances in which they are
applied , they never denote more than one
precife individual ; which they afcertain , and
fpecify, much in the fame manner as is done by
the article. So that pronouns are, at once, the
moft general, and the moft particular words in
Language. They are commonly the moft
irregular and troublefome words to the learner,
in the Grammar of all Tongues ; as being the
^vords moft in common ufe , and fubjeded there-
by to the greateft varieties.

Adjectives, or terms of quality, fuch as,
(jreat, little^ black, white, yours, ours, the are plaineft,
and fimpleft of all that clafs of words which are
termed attributive. They are found in all Lan-
guages, and, in ail Languages, muft. have been
very early invented; as ob'eds could not be
diftinguifhed from e.ach other, nor any inter-

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 179

conrfe be carried on concerning tbem, till once L E c T,
names were given to their different qualities. VIII,

I HAVE nothing to obferve in relation to them,
except that fingularity which attends them in the
Greek and Latin, of having the fame form given
them with fubftantive nouns; being declined,
like them, by cafes, and fubjedled to the like
diftindions of number and gender. Whence it
has happened, that grammarians have made them
to belong to the fame part of Speech , and
divided the noun into fubftantive and adjedlive;
an arrangement, founded more on attention to
the external form of words, than to their nature
and force. For adjedives, or terms of quality,
have not, by their nature, the leaft refemblance
to fubftantive nouns, as they never exprefs any
thing v.'hich can poffibly fubfift by itfelf; which
is the very eOfence of the fubftantive noun.
They axe, indeed, more a-kin to verbs, which,
like them, exprefs the attribute of fome fubftance.

It may, at firft view, appear fom.ewhat odd
and fantaftic , that adjedives Ihould , in thefe
ancient Languages , have affumed fo much the
form of fubftantives ; fmce neither number, nor
gender, nor cafes, nor relations, have any thing
to do, in a proper fenfe , with mere qualities,
fach as, oood or great, foft or hard. And yet
bonus, and magnus , and tener , have their fmgular
and plural , their mafculine and feminine , their
genitives and datives , like any of the names
of fubftances , or perfons. But this can be
accounted for , from the genius of thofe

N 2

i8o STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

t E c T. Tongues. They avoided, as much as poffible,
VIIL confidering qualities feparately, or in the abftrad:.
They made them a part , or appendage , of the
fubftance which they ferved to diftinguifli ;
they made the adjedlive depend on its fubQan-
tive, and refemble it in termination, in number,
and gender, in order that the two might coalefcc
the more intimately, and be joined in the form
of expreffion, as they were in the nature f)f
things. The liberty of tranfpofition, too, which
thofe Languages indulged , required fuch a
method as this to be followed. For, allowing the
related words of a fentence to be placed at a
diftance from each other, it required the relation
of adjedives to their proper fubftantives to be
pointed out, by fuch fimilar circumftances of
form and termination , as , according to the
grammatical ftyle, fhould fhow their concordance.
When 1 f;iy, in Englifli, the " Beautiful wife
5) of a brave man," the juxtapofition of the
wbrds prevents all ambiguity. But when I fay,
in Latin, " Formofa fortis viri uxor ; " it is only
the agreement , in gender , number , and cafe ,
of the adjedive- " formofa, " which is the firffc
word of the fentence , with the fnbftantive
" uxor , " which is the laft word that declares
the meaning. . .

LECTURE IX.

STRUCTURE of LANGUAGE.
ENGLISH TONGUE.

Oi

'F the whole clafs of words that are called L e e t..
attributive, indeed, of all the parts of Speech, ^^^'
the moft complex , by far , is the verb, It is
chiefly in this part of Speech, that the fubtile
and profound metaphyfic of Language appears ;
and , therefore j in examining the nature and
different variations of the verb, there might be
Toom for ample difcuflion. But as I am fenfible
that fuch grammatical difcuffions, when they are
purfued far , become intricate and obfcure , I
jQiall avoid dwelling any longer on this fubjed;,
than feems abfolutely neceffary.

The verb is fo far of the fame nature with
the adjedive , that it expreffes , like it , an
attribute, or propriety, of fome p.erfoii or thing.
But it does more than this. For, in all verbs,
in every Language, there are no lefs than three
things implied at once ; the attribute of fome
fubftantive , an affirmation concerning that attri-
bute, and time. Thus, when 1 fay, " the fun
55 fiiineth. " Shining, is the attribute afcribed to

N 3

i83 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T, the fun;- the prefent time is marked; and an
IX. affirmation is included , that this property of
Ihining belongs, at that time, to the fun. The
participle, " Ihining," is merely an adjedive,
which denotes an attribute, or property, and
alfo exprelfes time; but carries no affirmation.
The infinitive mood, " to Ihine, " may be called
the name of the verb; it carries neither time nor
affirmation ; but fimply expreffes that attribute ,
adlion , or ftate of things, which is to be the
fubjed: of the other moods and tenfes. Hence
the infinitive is often a-kin to a fubftantive noun ;
and, both in Englifh and Latin, is fometimes
conftrucled as fuch. As, " Scire tuum nihil eft. "
" Dulce Sc decorum efb pro patria mori. " And,
in Englifh, in the fame manner. " To write
*' well is difficult; to fpeak' eloquently is ftill
" more difficult. " But as, through all the other
tenfes and moods, the affirmation runs, and is
elfential to them ; " the fun fliinetb, was fhining,
35 Ihone, will fhine , would have fhone," &c.
the affirmation feems to be that which chiefly
diftinguilhes the verb from the other parts of
Speech , and gives it its moft confpicuous power.
Hence there can be no fentence or complete
propofition, without a verb either expreffed or
implied. For , whenever we fpeak , we always
mean to alTert, that fomething is, or is not; and
the word which carries this affertion, or affirma-
tion , is a verb. From this fort of eminence
belonging to it, this part of Speech hath received

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 185

its name; verb, from the Latin, verbum, or the L e c-t.
■vpord , by way of diftindion, IX,

Verbs, therefore, from their importance and
neceffity in Speech , muft have been coeval with
men's iirfl attempts towards the formation of
Language: Though, indeed, it mufi: have been
the work of long time, to rear them up to that
accurate and complex ftrudure, which they now
poffefs. It feems very probable , as Dr. Smith
hath fuggefted , that the radical verb , or the
firft form of it, in moft Languages, would be^
what we now call, the Imperfonal Verb. " It
" rains; it thunders;- it is light; it is agreeable;"
and the like ; as this is the very fimpleft form of
the verb , and merely affirms the exiftence of an
event, or of a ftate of things. By degrees, after
pronouns were invented, fuch verbs became
perfonal , and were branched out into all the
variety of tenfes and moods.

The tenfes of the verb are contrived to imply
the feveral diftindions of time. Of thefe, I muffe
take fome notice, in order to fhow the admirable
accuracy with which Language is conftruded.
We think, corpmonly , of no more than the
three great divifions of time, into the paft, the
prefent, and the future: and we might imagine,
that if verbs had been fo contrived, as fimply
to exprefs thefe , no more v/as needfuL Bn'c
Language proceeds with much greater fubtilty=
It fplits time into its feveral moments. It conft-
ders time as never (landing ftill , but always
flQWing; things paft, as more or lefs perfec1;Iy

N 4

i84 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. completed ; and things future , g.s more or lefs
I}v. remote , by different gradations. Hence the great i
variety qf tenfes in moft Tongues.

Xhe prefent may , indeed , be always con-
fidered as one in divifibie point, fufceptible of
no variety. "I write, or, lam writing; Jcrf 60. "
But it is not fo with the paffc. There is no
Language fo poor, but it hath two or three tenfes 1
to exprefs thp varieties of it. Ours hath no fewer |
than four. i. A paft adion may be confidered |
.^s left unfinifhed ; which makes the imperfe6t |
tenfe , " I was writing; fcribibam." 2. As juft
now finifhed. Th.is makes the proper perfedl
tenfe, \vhich, in Englifh , is always expreffed
by the help of the auxiliary verb, " 1 have
" written. " 3. It may be confidered as finilhed
fome time ago; the particular time left indefinite.
*^'- I "WTOte ; fcrip/i-^" which may either fignify ,
'^' I wrote yefterday , or I wrote a twelvemonth
" ago. " This is what grammarians call an
^orift, or indefinite paft. 4. It may be confider--
ed as finifhed before fomething elfe , which is
alfo paft. This is the plufquamperfed. " I had
^' written; fcripferam. I had written, before I
^' received his letter. "*

Here we obferve , with fome pleafure , that
"we have an advantage over the Latins , who
liave only three varieties upon the paft time.
They have no proper perfecH; tenfe , or one
V^hich diftinguifhes an adion juft now finifhed,
■ from an adion that was finifhed fome time ago.
|n both thefi^ cafes » they muft fay, "^/-ipi?*'*

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 185

Though there be a manifeft difference in the l e c t.
tenfes , which our Language expreffes , by this IX.
variation, " 1 have written," meaning, I have
juft now finifhed writing; and, "1 wrote,"
meaning at fome former time , fmcc which , other
things have intervened. This difference the
Romans have no tenfe to exprefs ; and, there-
fore , can only do it by a circumlocution.

The chief varieties in the future time arc
two; a fimple or indefinite future: " I fhall
"write; fcribam:" And a future, relating to
fomething elfe, which is alfo future. " 1 fhall
" have written ; fcripfero, " I fhall have written
before he arrives*.

Besides tenfes , or the power of expreffing
time, verbs admit the diftindion of Voices, as
they are called , the adive and the paffive ;
according as the affirmation refpeds fomething
that is done , or fomething that is fuffered ; " 1
" love, or Lam loved." They admit alfo the
diftindion of moods , which are defigned to
exprefs the affirmation, whether adive or paffive,
imder different forms. The indicative mood ,
for inftance , fimply declares a propofition , " I
" write ; I have written ; " the imperative re-
quires , commands , threatens , "j [write thou ;
" let him write." The fubjundive expreffes
the propofition under the form of a condition,

* On the tenfes of verbs , Mr, Harris's Hermes may be
confulted , by fuch as defire to fee them fcrutinized with
metaphyfical accuracy ; and alfo , the Treatife on the
Orrgin ^nd Progrefs of Language, Vol. ii. p. 12 5-.

tS6 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. or in fubordination to fome other thing, to
IX. which a reference is made , " I might write , I
" could write, I fhould write, if the cafe were
" fp and fo." This manner of expreffing an
affirmation , under fo many different forms ,
together alfo with the diftindlion of the three
perfons, /, thou ^ and he, conftitutes what is
called, the conjugation of verbs, which makes
fo great a part of the grammar of all Languages.
It now clearly appears , as I before obferv-
cd , that , of all the parts of Speech , verbs are,
by far, the moft artificial and complex, Con-
fider only , how many things are denoted by
this fmgle Latin word ''^ amavjjjem , I would
" have loved. " Firft , The perfon who fpeaks,
"1." Secondly, An attribute, or adion of
that perfon , " loving. " Thirdly , An affirm-
ation concerning that adion, fourthly.
The paft time denoted in that affirmation ,
" have loved. " and , Fifthly , A condition oa
which the adlion is fufpended , " would have
" loved. " It appears curious and remarkable,
that words of this complex import , and with
more or lefs of this artificial ftrudlure , are to
be found, as far as we know, in all Languages
of the world.

Indeed, the form of conjugation, or the
manner of expreffing all thefe varieties in the
verb , differs greatly in different Tongues.
Conjugation is efteemed moft perfe6t in thofe
Languages , which , by varying either the ter-
mination or the initial fyllable of the verb.

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. iS?

fexprefs the greatefc number of important cir- L e c t,
cumftances , without the help of auxiliary IX.
words. In the Oriental Tongues , the verbs
are faid to have few tenfes , or expreffions of
time; but then their moods are fo contrived, as
to exprefs a great variety of circumftances and
relations. In the Hebrew , for inftance , they
fay, in one word, without the help of any
auxiliary, not only "I have taught," but "I
** have taught exadlly, or often; I have been
" conimanded to teach ; I have taught myfelf."
The Greek, which is the moft perfedl of all
the known Tongues , is very regular and com-
plete in all the tenfes and moodi>. The Latin
is formed on the fame model , but more imper-
fed; efpecially in the paffive voice, which forms
mofb of the tenfes by the help of the auxiliary
'Jum.
In all the modern European Tongues , con-
jugation is very defedive. They admit few
varieties in the termination of the verb itfelf;
but have almofl conftant recourfe to their
auxiliary verbs , throughout all the moods and
tenfes , both adive and paffive. Language has
undergone a change in conjugation , perfedly
fimilar to that, which I ihowed in the laft Lec-
ture, it underwent with refped to declenfioUo
As prepofitions , prefixed to the noun , fuper-
feded the ufe of cafes; fo the two great auxi-
liary verbs, to have^ and to he, with thofe
other auxiliaries which we ufe in Englifh, do^
shall, willy may, and can, prefixed to the parti-

188 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE.

L E c T. ciple, fuperfede, in a great meafure, the different
IX. terminations of moods and tenfes, which formed .
the ancient conjugations.

The alteration, in both cafes, was owing
to the fame caufe , and will be eafily nnder-
ftood, from reflecting on what was formerly
obferved. The auxiliary verbs are like prepo-
fitions , words of a very general and abftradl
nature. They imply the different modifications
of fimple exiftence, confidered alone, and with-
out reference to any particular thing. In the
early ftate of Speech , the import of them would
be incorporated, fo to fpeak , with every par-,
ticular verb in its tenfes and moods , long before
words were invented for denoting fuch abftradt
conceptions of exiftence , alone , and by them-
felves. But after thofe auxiliary verbs came, in
the progrefs of Language , to be invented and
' known , and to have tenfes and moods given
to them like other verbs j it was found , that
as they carried in their nature the force of that
affirmation which diftinguiflies the, verb, they
might, by being joined with the participle
which gives the meaning of the verb, fupply
the place of moft of the moods and tenfes.
Hence, as the modern Tongues began to rife
out of the ruins of the ancient , this method
eftabliflied itfelf in the new formation of Speech.
Such words , for in ft an ce ; as , cr/n , ippas , have ,
shall ^ being once famihar , it appeared more
eafy to apply thefe to any verb whatever; as,
I am loved', I -was loved i I have loved i than to

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 189

remember that variety of terminations which L e c t.
were requifite in cenjugating the ancient verbs, IX.
amor^ amabar^ amaviy &c. Two or three varieties
only , in the termination of the verb , were re-
tained; as, /oue, loved t lovinc; ; and all the reft
were dropt. The confequence , however, of
this pradlice, was the fame as that of abolifhing
declenfions. It rendered Language more fimple
and eafy in its ftruAure ; but withal , more
prolix , and lefs graceful. This finifhes all that
feemed moft neceffary to be obferved with
refped to verbs.

The remaining parts of Speech , which are
called the indeclinable parts , or that admit of no
variations, will not detain us long.

Adverbs are the firfl that occur. Thefe form
a very numerous clafs of words in every Lan-
guage, reducible, in general, to the head of attri-
butives; as they ferve to modify, or to denotefome
circumftance of an adion, or of a quality, rela- *■
tive to its time , place , order , degree , and the
other properties of it , which we have occafion
to fpecify. They are , for the moft part , no
more than an abridged mode of Speech , ex-
preffing, by one word, what might, by a cir-
cumlocution , be refolved into two or more
words belonging to the other parts of Speech.
"Exceedingly," for inftance , is the fame as,
*' in a high degree; "bravely," the fame as,
*' with bravery or valour ; " " here , " the fame
as, "in this place; " " often ,• and feldom, " the
fame as, "for many and for few times:" and

I90 STRUCTURE OE LANGUAGE.

L E c T. fo of tjhe reft. Hence , adverbs may be con-
IX. ceived as of lefs neceffity , and of later intro-
dudion into the fyftem of Speech, than many,
other claffes of words; and, accordingly, the
great body of them are derived from other
words formerly eftabliffied in the Language.

Prepositions and conjuncTiions, are words
more effential to difcourfe than the greateft
part of adverbs. They form that clafs of words,
called Conneclives , without which there could
be no Language ; ferving to exprefs the relations
which things bear to one another, their mutual
influence, dependencies, and coherence ; thereby
joining words together into intelligible and fig-
nificant propofitions. Conjunclions are generally
employed for connecling fentences , or members
of fentences ; as, and ^ becaufe , although^ and
the like. Prepofitions are employed for con.
neding words, by fiiowing the relation which
one fubftantive noun bears to another; as, of,
from , to , above , bdo'xv , &c. Of the force of
thefe I had occafion to fpeak before , when
treating of the cafes and declenfions of fubftan^
--tive nouns.

It is abundantly evident , that all thefe con-
iiedive particles muft be of the greateft ufe in
Speech; feeing they point out the relations and
tranfitions by which the mind palTes from one
idea to another. They are the foundation of
all reafoning, which is no other thing than the
connection of thoughts. And, therefore, though
among barbarous nations, a,nd. in the rude un-*

STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 191

civilifed ages of the world , tlie ftock of thefe L e c t.
words might be fmall , it muft always have in- IX.
creafed , as mankind advanced in the arts of
reafoning and fefleclion. The more any nation is
improved by fcience , and the more perfedt their
Language becomes, we may naturally expedl, that
it will abound the more with connective particles ;
exprelling relations of things, and tranfitions of
thought,which had efcaped a groflfer view. Accord-
ingly, no Tongue is fo full of them as the Greek, in
confequence of the acute and fubtile genius of
that refined people. In every Language , much
of the beauty and ftrength of it depends on the
proper ufe of conjundions , prepofitions , and
thofe relative pronouns, which alfo ferve the
fame purpofe of conneding the different parts
of difcourfe. It is the right , or wrong manage-
ment of thefe, which chiefly makes difcourfe
appear firm and compadled ; or disjointed and
loofe ; which caufes it to march with a fmooth
and even pace, or with gouty and hobbling
fteps.

I SHALL dwell no longer on the general con-
ftrudion of Language. Allow me, only, be-
fore 1 difmifs the fubjed, to obferve , that dry t
and intricate as it may feem to fome , it is ,
however , of great importance , and Very nearly
conneded with the philofophy of the human
mind. For, if Speech be the Vehicle, or inter-
preter of the" conceptions of our minds, an exa-
mination of its Strudure and Progrefs cannot
but unfold many things concerning the nature

193 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE,

L E c T. and progrefs of our conceptions themfelves, and
IX. the operalions of our faculties ; a fubjed: that is
always inftrudive to man, "Nequis," fays
Ouindilian, an author of excellent judgment,
" nequis tanquam parva faffcidiat grammatices
" elementa. Non quia magnse fit oper^e con-
*' fonantes a vocalibus difcernere ^ eafque in fe-
" mivocalium numerum , mutarumque partiri ,
" fed quia interiora velut facri hujus adeunti-
" bus, apparebit multa rerum fubtilitas, quie
*' non mode acuere ingenia puerilia, fed exercere
*' altiffimam quoque eruditionem ac fcientiam
*' pofTit *. " I. 4.

Let us now come nearer to Qur own Lan-
guage. In this, and the preceding Lecture,.
fome obfervations have already been made on
its Strudlure. But it is proper, that we [fhould
be a little more particular in the examination
of it.

The Language which is , at prefent , fpokei
throughout Great Britain , is neither the ancien
primitive Speech of the ifland , nor derived frort
iti but is altogether of foreign origin. Th(

* " Let no man defpife, as inconfiderable , the ele
" ments of grammar , becaule it may feem to him i
" matter of fmall confequence, to fliow the diilinctior
*^ between vowels and confonants , and to divide the latte;
" into liquids and mutes. Out they who penetrate into thi
*' innermoft parts of this temple of fcience , will there d'li
" cover fuch refinement and fubtilty of matter , as i|
" not only proper to fliarpen the undcrftandings oi
" young men, but fufficient to give exercife for the mof
" profcuid knowledge and erudition."

Language

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 193

Language of the firft inhabitants of our iOand^ L e c t*
beyond doubt, was the Celtic, or Gaehc, com- IX.
mon to them with Gaul ; from which country,
it appears , by many circumftances , that Great
Britain was peopled. This Celtic Tongue ,■
which is faid to be very expreffive and copious^
and is , probably , one of the moft ancient Lan-
guages in the world , obtained once in moft of
the weftern regions of Europe. It was the Lan-
guage of Gaul, of Great Britain, of Ireland,
and very probably, of Spain alfo; till, in the
courfe of thofe revolutions , which , by means
of the coiiquefts , firffc, of the Romans, and
afterwards, of the northern nations, chan2:ed
the government , fpeech , and, in a manner, the
whole face of Europe, this Tongue was srra-
dually obliterated; and now fubfifts only in the
mountains of Wales, in the Highlands of Scot-
land , and among the wild Irilh. For the irifh,
the Welch, and the Erfe, are no other than
different dialers of the fame Tongue , the
ancient Celtic.

This, then, was the Language of the pri-
mitive Britons, the firft inhabitants, that we
know of, in our ifland; and continued fo till
the arrival of the Saxons in England , in the
year of our Lord 450 ; who , having conquered
the Britons , did not intermix with them ^ but
expelled them from their habitations , and drove •
them, together with their Language, into the
mountains of Wales, The Saxons v/ere one oi

V^OL. L O

194 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

t E c T. thofe northern nations tbat overran Europe;
iX. i^nd their Tongue , a dialed; of the Gothic or
Teutonic , altogether diftincfl from the Celtic,
laid the foundation of the prefent Englilli Ton^^
gue. With fome intermixture of Danifh, a Lan-
guage , probably , from the fame root with the
Saxon, it continued to be fpoken throughout
the fouthern part of the Ifland , till the time o£
William the Conqueror. He introduced his Nor-
man or French as the Language oF the court,
which made a confiderable change in the Speech
of the nation ; and the Englilli , which was fpok-
4en afterwards , and continues to be fpoken
now , is a mixture of the ancient Saxon , and
this Norman French , together with fuch new
and foreign words as commerce and learning
have, in progrefs of time, gradually introduced.-
The hiftory of the Englifh Language can ,
in this manner, be clearly traced. The Lan-
guage fpoken in the Low Countries of Scotland,
is now , and has been for many centuries, no
other than a dialed of the Englilli. How , in-
deed , or by what ffceps, the ancient Celtic
Tongue came to be banifiied from the Low
Countries in Scotland , and to make its retreat
into the Highlands -and Illands, cannot be fo
well pointed out , as how the like revolution
was brought about in England. Whether the
■ fouthernmoft part of Scotland was once fubjed
to the Saxons, and formed a part of the king-
dom of Northumberland; or, whether the great

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE^ igf

mirriber of Englifli exiles that retreated into T, e c T.
Scotland , upon the Norman conqueftj and upon 1X»
other occafions , introduced into that country
their own Language ^ which afterwards, by the
mutual intercourfe of the two nations , prevailed
over the Celtic ^ are uncertain and contefled
points, the difcuffion of which would lead us
too far from our fubjecT;.

From what has been faid, it appears, that
the Teutonic dialed: is the bafis of our prefent
Speech. It has been imported among us in three
different forms , the Saxon, the Danifh, and the
Norman ; all which have mingled together in our
Language. A very great number of our words
too, are plainly derived from the Latin. Thefe^
■we had not direclly from the Latin , but moft
of them , it is probable , entered into our Ton-
gue through the channel of that Norman Frenchj
which William the Conqueror introduced. Fofj
as the Romans had long been in full pofieffioii
of Gaul, the Language fpoken in that country^
\vhen it was invaded by the Franks and Nor- -
mans , was a fort of corrupted Latin , mingled
with Celtic , to which was given the name of
Romanfhe : and as the Franks and Normans
did not, like the Saxons in England, expel the
inhabitaftts , but , after their vidories , mingled
with them ; the Language of the country became at
compound of theTeiltonic dialed; imported by thefe
conquerors , and of the former corrupted Latins
Hence, the French Language has always continued

O a

196 THE ENGMSH LANGUAGE.

t E c T. to have a very confiderable affinity with the Latin ;
iX, and hence , a great number of words of Latin
origin , which were in life among the Normans
in France, were introduced into our Tongue at
the ccnqueft; to which, indeed, many have
fince been added, diredlly from the Latin, in.
confequence of the great diffufion of Roman
literature throughout all Europe.

From the influx of fo many ftreams, from
the iunclion of fo many diffimilar parts , it na-
turally follows , that the Englifh , like every
compounded Language , muft needs be fome-
what irregular. We cannot exped from it that
correfpondence of parts , that complete analogy
in flrucflure , which may be found in thofe fim-
pler Languages , which have been formed in a
manner within themfelves , and built on one
foundation. Hence , as I before fhowed , it has
but fmall remains of conjugation or declenfion;
and its fyntax is narrow, as there are few marks
in the words themfelves that can iliow their
relation to each other, or, in the grammatical
fiyle , point out either their concordance , or
their government, in the fentence. Our words
having been brought to us from feveral differ-
ent regions , flraggle , if we may fo fpeak,
afunder from each other,- and do notcoalefce
fo naturally in the ftruclure oF a fentence , as
the*word> in the Greek and Roman I'ongues.

But thefe difadvantages , if they be fuch , of
a compound Language, are balanced by other

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 19?

advantages that attend it ; particularly , by the L e c T.
number and variety of words with which fuch IX. .
a Language is likely to be enriched. Few Lan-
guages are, in faft, more copious tlian the Eng-
lifh. In all grave fubjeds efpecially , hiftorical,
criiical , political, and moral, no writer has the
leaft reafon to complain of the barrennefs of our
Tongue, The fludious refledling genius of the
people, has brought together great ftore of ex-
preffions , on fuch fubjeils , from every quarter.
We are rich too in the Language of poetry.
Our poetical ffcyle differs widely from profe, not
in point of numbers only , but in the very
words themfelves ; which fliows what a flock
and compafs of words we have it in our power
to feledt and employ, fuited to thofe different
occafions. Herein we are infinitely fuperior to
the French, whofe poetical Language , if it were
not diftinguifhed by rhyme , would not be
known to differ from their ordinary profe.

It is chiefly, indeed, on grave fubjeds, and
with refpect to the flronger emotions of the
mind , that our Language difplays its power of
expreifion. We are faid to have thirty v/ords,
at leaft , for denoting all the varieties of the
paffion of anger *. But , in defcribing the more

* Anger , wrath , paiTion , rage , fury , outrage , fierce-
nefs, fliarpnefs, aniniorit]^, choler, refentaient , heat,
heart-burning; to fume, ftorni , inflanie , be incenfed ;
to vex , kindle , irritate , enrage , exafperate , provolie , .
fret ; to be fullen , hafcy , hot , rough , four , peevifh , &c.
Preface to Greenwood's Grammar.
O 3

193 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

1 E c T. delicate fentimerits and emotions, our Tongue i«
IX. not '{o fertile. It muft be confeffed , that the
French Language furpailes ours, by far, in ex-
preffing the nicer fhades of charadler; efpecially
thofe varieties of manner, temper, and behaviour,
"which are difplayed in our focial intercourfe with
one another. Let any one attempt to tranflatc,
into Englifh , only a few pages of one of Mari-
Vaux's Novels , and he will foon be fenfible o£
pur deficiency of expreffion on thefe fubjeds.
Indeed, no Language is fo copious as the French
for whatever is delicate, gay, and amufmg. It.
is, perhaps , the happieft Language for converfa-
tion in the known world; but, on the higher
fubjeds of compofition , the Englifli may he
juftly efteemed to excel it confiderably.

]Language is generally underftood to receive
its predominant tindure froni the national cba-
rader of the people who fpeak it We muft
not, indeed, expecft, that it will carry an exadtv
and full impreffion of their genius and manners;
for, among all nations, the original ftock of
"words which they received from their anceftors,
remain as the foundation of their Speech through-
out many ages , while their manners undergo,
perhaps , very great alterations. National cha-
rader wilt, however, always have fome per-
ceptible influence on the turn of Language; and
the gaiety and vivacity of the French , and the
gravity and thoughtfulnefs of the Englifh , are
fufl^ciently imprefled on their refpedlive Tongues.

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 199

From the genius of our Language, and the t e c t.
characfter of thofe who {peak it , it may be ex- IX.
peded to have ftrength and energy. It is , in-
deed, naturally prolix : owing to the great num-
ber of particles and auxiliary verbs which we
are obliged conftantly to employ; and this pro-
lixity muft , in fome degree , enfeeble it. We
feldom can exprefs fo much by one word as was
done by the Verbs , and by the nouns , in the
Greek and Roman Languages. Our ftyle is lefs
compad;; our conceptions being fpread out
among more words , and fplit , as it were , into
more parts, make a fainter impreffion when we
utter them. Notwithftanding this defed, by
our abounding in terms for exprcffing all the
ftrong emotions of the mind, and by the liberty
which we enjoy, in a greater degree than moft
nations , of compounding \Vords , our Language
may be efteemed to polTefs confiderable force of
expreffion; comparatively, at leaft , with the
other modern Tongues, though much below the
ancient. The Style of Milton alone, both in
poetry and profe, is a fufficient proof, that the
Englifli Tongue is far from being deftitute of
nerves and energy.

The flexibility of a Language , or its power
of accommodation to different ftyles and man-
ners , fo as to be cither grave and ftrong , or
eafy and flowing, or tender and gentle, of
pompous and magnificent, as occafions require,
or as an author's genius prompts, is a quality

O 4

?oo THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

L E c T. of great importance in fpeaking and writing. It
IX. feems to depend upon three things; the copiouf-
nefs of a Language ; the different arrangements
of which its words are fufceptible ; and the va-
riety and beauty of the found oF thofe words,
fo as to correfpond to many different 'ubjeds.
N^ever did any Tongue poffefs this, quality fo
eminently as the Greek, which every writer of
genius could fo mould , as to nfake the ftyle
perfedly expreffive of his own manner and pe-
f culiar turn. It had all the three requifites ,

which I have mentioned , as neceffary for this
purpofe. It joined to thefe the graceful variety
of its different dialecls; and thereby readily affum-
ed every fort of character which an author could
%vilh , from the moft fimple and moft familiar,
tip to the mofl majeftic. The Latin , though a
very beautiful Language , is inferior , in this re-
fped;, to the Greek. It has more of a fixed
charader of ftatelinefs and gravity. It is always
firm and mafcufiue in the tenor of its found;
and is fupported by a certain fenatorial dignity
of which it is difficult for a writer to divefl; it
wholly , on any occafion. Among the modern
Tongues . the Italian poffeffes a great deal more
of this flexibility than the French. By its co-
pioufnefs, its freedom of arrangement, and the
great beauty and harmony of its founds , it fuits
jtfelf very happily to moft fubjeds, either in
profe or in poetry; is capable of the augufl; and
the ftrong, 2a well as the tender; and feeras to

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 2or

t)e , on the whole , the mofl perfedl of all the L e c T,
modern dialedls which have arifen out of the IX^
ruins of the ancient. Our own Language, though
not equal to the Italian in flexibility , yet is not
deflitute of a confiderable degree of this quality.
If any one will confider the diverfity of ftyle
which appears in fome of our claffics ; that great
difference of manner , for inftance , which is
marked by the Style of Lotd Shaftfbury , and
•that of Dean Swifts he will fee, in our Ton-
gue, fuch a circle of expreffion, fuch a power
of accommodation to the different tafte of wri-
ters , as redounds not a little to its honour.

What the Engliili has been moft taxed with,
is its deficiency in harmony of found. But though
every native is apt to be partial to the founds
of his own Language , and may , therefore , be
fufpecled of not being a fair judge in this point;
yet , I imagine , there are evident grounds on
which 'it may be fhown , that this charge againfl
our Tongue has been carried too far. 1 he me-
lody of our verfification , its power of fupport- .
ing poetical numbers , without any affiftance
from rhyme , is alone a fufficient proof that our
Language is far from being unmufical. Our
verfe is , after the Italian , the moft diverfified
and harmonious of any of the modern dialects;
unqueftionably far beyond the French verfe , in
variety , fweetnefs, and melody. Mr. Sheridan
has fhown , in his Lectures , that we abound
more in vowel and diphthong founds, than moft

ao3 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

L E c T. Languages, and thefe too , fo divided into long
IX. and lliort , as to afford a proper diverfity in the
quantity of our fyllables. Our confonants , he
obferves , which appear fo crowded to the eye
on paper , often form combinations not difa-
greeable to the ear in pronouncing , and , in
particular , the objedion which has been made
to the frequent recurrence of the hiding confo-
nant S in our Language , is unjuft and ill-
founded. For , it has not been attended to , that
very commonly, and in the final fyDables efpe-
cially , this letter lofes altogether the hiffing
found , and is transformed into a Z , which is
one of the founds on which the ear refts with
pleafure ; as in has , thefe , thofe , loves , hears , and
innumerable more , where , though the letter S
be retained in writing , it has really the power
of Z , not of the common S.

After all, however, it muftbe admitted, that
fmoothnefs, or beauty of found, is none of the
diftinguifhing properties of the Englilh Tongue.
Though not incapable of being formed into melo-
dious arrangements , yet ftrength and exprcffivc-
iiefs , more than grace , form its charadler. We
incline , in general , to a iliort pronunciation of
our words , and have fhortened the quantity of
moft of thofe which we borrow from the Latin,
as orator , fpectade , theatre , liberty , and fuch like, v
Agreeable to this , is a remarkable peculiarity of
Engliih pronunciation , the throwing the accent
farther back , that is , nearer the beginning of
the \Yord , than is done by any other nation. In

A^,

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE; 203

Greek and Latin , no word is accented farther L e c t,
back than the third fyllable from the end , or IX.
■what is called the antepenult. But , in Englifh j
we have many words accented on the fourth ,
fome on the fifth fyllable from the end , as,
memorable , conviniency , ambulatory , prdfitahknef!.
The general effedl of this practice of haftening
the accent , or placing it fo near the beginning
of a word , is to give a brilk and a fpirited^, but
at the fame time , a rapid and hurried , and not
very mufical , tone to the whole pronunciation
of a people.

The Englifli Tongue poffeffes , undoubtedly,
this property , of being the moft fimple in its
form and conftruclion , of all the European dia-
ledls. It is free from all intricacy of cafes , de-
clenfions , moods and tenfes. Its words are fub-
jecl to fewer variations from their original form
than thofe of any other Language. Its fubftan<
tives have no diftindion of gender, except what
nature has made , and but one variation in cafe..
Its adjedives admit of no change at all , except
what expreffes the degree of comparifon. Its
verbs, inftead of running through all the varieties,
of ancient conjugation , fuffer no more than four
or five changes in termination. By the help of
a few prepofitions and auxiliary verbs , all, the
purpofes f f fignificancy in meaning are accom-
plifhed ; while the words , for the moft part, pre-
ferve their form unchanged. The difadvantages
in point of elegance, brevity , and force, which
follow from this firuclure of our Language, I

SJ04 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

L E c T. have before pointed out. But, at the fame time,
IX. it muft be admitted , that fuch a ftrufture contri-
butes to facility. It renders the acquificion of our
Language lefs laborious , the arrangement of
our words more plain and obvious, the rules of
our fyntax fewer and more hmple,

I AGRtE, indeed, with Dr. Lowth (preface
to his Grammar ) , in thinking that this very
fimplicity and facility of our Language pro\'-es a
caufe of its being frequently written and fpokeii
■with lefs accuracy. It was neceff.iry to ftudy Lan-
guages-, which were of a more complex and
artificial form, with gre.Uer care. The marks of
gender and cafe , the varieties of conjugation"
and declenlion , the multiplied rules of fyntax ,
"were all to be attended to in Speech. Hence
Language became more an objed of art. It was
reduced into form ; a ftandard was eftabliflied ;
and any departures from the ftandard became
confpicuous. Whereas, among us , Language is
hardly confidered as an objedt of grammatical
rule. We take it for granted, that a competent
Ikill in it may be acquired without any ftudy;
and that, in a fyntax fo narrow and confined
as ours , there is nothing which demands attention.
Hence arifes the habit of writing in a loofe and
inaccurate manner.

I ADMIT , that no grarrimatical rules have fuf-
fi'cient authority to control the firm and eftab-
liilied ufage of Language. Eftablifhed cuftom iil
fpeaking and writing, is the ftandard to which
we muft at laft refort for determining every con*

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ^03

troverted point in language and Style. But it L E c t.
will not follow from this, that grammatical. rules IX.
are fuperfeded as ufelefs. In every Language ,
which has been in any degree cultivated , there
prevails a certain ftrudure and analogy of parts,
which is underftood to give foundation to the
moft reputable ufage of Speech ; and which , in
all cafes , when ufage is loofe or dubious , pof-
feffes confiderable authority. In every Language ,
there are rules of fyntax which mufl be inviolably
obferved by all who would either write or fpeak
with any propriety. For fyntax is no other than
that arrangement of words , in a fentence , which
renders the meaning of each word , and the rela-
tion of all the words to one another , moft clear
and intelligible.

All the rules of Latin fyntax, it is true, can-
not be applied to our Language. Many of thofe
rules arofe from the particular form of their Lan-
guage , which occafioned verbs or prepofitions to
govern, fome the genitive, fome the dative, feme the
accufative or ablative cafe. But, abftradling from
thefe peculiarities, it is to be always remembered,
that the chief and fundamental rules of fyntax
are common to the Englilli as well as the Latin
Tongue ; and , indeed , belong equally to all
Languages. For , in all Languages , the parts
which compofe Speech are effentially the fame ;
fubftantives , adjectives, verbs, and connedling
particles : And wherever thefe parts of Speech
are found , there are certain neceffary relations
g.mong them , which regulate their fyntax , or

2o6 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

L E c T. the place which they ought to poffefs in a fen-^
IX. tence. Thus, in Englifli , juft as much as in La-
tin, the adjedlive mull, by pofition , be made to
agree with its fabftantive ; and the verb muft
agree with its nominative in perfon and number;
becaufe , from the nature of things , a word which
exprelTes either a quahty or an adion ^ mufi: cor-
respond as clofely as poffible with the name
of that thing whofe quahty , or whofe adion ,
it exprefles. Two or more fubftantives , joined
by a copulative , muft always require the verbs
or pronouns , to which they refer , to be placed
in the plural number ; otherwife , their common re-
lation to thefe verbs or pronouns is not pointed out.
An aiflive verb muft , in every Language , go-
vern the accufative ; that is , clearly point out
fome fubftantive noun , as the objed to which
its adion is direded. A relative pronoun muft ,
in every form of Speech, agree with its antece-
dent in gender, number, and perfon; and con-
jundions, or connecting particles, ought always
to couple like cafes and moods ; that is, ought
to join together words which are of the fame
form and ftate with each other. I mention thefe
as a few exemplifications of that fundamental
regard to fyntax , which , even in fuch a Lan-
guage as ours, is abfolutely requifite for writing
or fpeaking with any propriety.

AV"hatever the advantages , or defeds of the
Englifh Language be , as it is our own Lan-
guage , it deferves a high degree of our ftudy
and attention , both with regard to the choice of

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ao?

words which we employ , and with regard to L e c t,
the fyntax , or the arrangement of thefe words IX.
in a fentence. We know how much the Greeks
and the Romans , in their moft polifhed and
iiourilliing times , cultiva^ted their own Tongues.
We know hbw much ftudy both the French,
and the Italians , have beftowed upon theirs.
Whatever knowledge may be acquired by the
fludy of other Languages , it can never be
communicated with advantage , unlefs by fuch ,
as can write and fpeak their own Language
well. Let the matter of an author be ever fo good *
and ufeful , his compofitions will always fuffer in
the public efteem, if his expreffion be deficient
in purity and propriety. At the fame time , the
attainment of a corred; and elegant ftyle , is an
objedl which demands application and labour. If
any imagine they can catch it merely by the ear,
or acquire it by a flight perufal of fome of our
good authors , they will find themfclves much
difappointed. T4ie many errors , even in point of
grammar , the many offences againft purity of
Language , which are committed by writers who
are far from being contemptible , demonftrate,
that a careful ftudy of the Language is pre-
vioufly requifite, in all who aim at writing it
properly *.

* On this fubjecl , the Reader ought to perufe Dr. Lowth's
Short Introdudion to EngHfh Grammar, with Critical
Notes ; which is the grammatical performance of higheft
authority that has appeared in our time, and in whicli
he will fee , what I have faid concerning the inaccuracies

3oS THE ENGLISH LANGUA.GE.

I^ E c T. in Language of fome of our befl writers , fully verified.
IX ^^ ^^- Campbell's Philofophy of Rhetoric , he will like-

wife find many acute and ingenious obfervations , both on
the Englifli Language , and on Style in general. And
Dr. Prieflley's Rudiments of Englifli Grammar will alfo be
ufeful, by pointing out feveral of the errors into which
writers are apt to faJJ, ' ;»

LEC

LECTURE X

STYLE — —PERSPICUITY AND
PRECISION.

AVING finifhed the fubjedl of Language, I L e c t.
row enter on the confideration of Style , and X.
the rules that relate to it.

It is not eafy to give a precife idea of what
is meant by Style, The beft definition I can
give of it J is, the peculiar manner in which a
man expreffes his conceptions , by means of
Language. It is different from mere Language
or words. The words, which an author employs,
may be proper and faultlefs ; and his Style may,
neverthelefs , have great faults', it may be dry,
or ftiffi or feeble, or affeded. Style has alv/ays
fome reference to an a.uthor's manner of thinking*
It is a picture of the ideas which rife in hi3
mind , and of the manner in which they rife
there ; and ■, hence , when we are examining
an author's compofition, it is, in m.any cafes,
extremely difficult to feparate the Style from '

the fentiment. No wonder thefe two fhonld
be fo intimately connededj as Style is nothing

Vol. I F

^lO

STYLE

1/ E c T. elfe , than that fort of exprefTion which out
X, thoughts moil readily alTume, Hence, different
countries have been noted for peculiarities of
Style, fuited to their different temper and genius.
The eaftern nations animated their Style with
the mofl ftrong and hyperbolical, figures. The
Athenians, a polifhed and acute people, formed
a Style accurate, clear, and neat. The Afiatics,
gay and loofe in their manners , affeded a Style
florid and diffufe. The like fort of charac-
teriftical differences are commonly remarked in
the Style of the French, the Engliili , and the

\ Spaniards. In giving the general charaders of

Style , it is ufual to talk of a nervous , a feeble ,
or a fpirited Style ; which are plainly" the
characters of a writer's manner of thinking, as
well as of exprefTmg himfelf : So difficult is it to
feparate thefe two things from one another. Of
the generaKcharaders. of Style, I am afterwards
to difcourfe; but it will be neceffary to begin
with examining the more fimple quafities of it;
from the affemblage of which , its more complex
denominations, in a great meafure, refalt.

All the qualities of a good Style may be
ranged under two heads, Pcrfpicuity and Or-
nament. For all that can poffibly be required
of Language, is,. to convey our ideas clearly tO;
the minds of others, and, at the fame time, in i
fuch a drefs, as by pleafing and interefting them,, ,
fliall mofh effedually (Irengthen the impreflions «
^ijv^hich we feek to make. Vv^hen both tliefe ends, <

PERSPICUITY. ^11

are anfvvefed , v/e certainly accomplifh every L E c f *
purpofe for which we ufe Writing and Difcourfei X.

Perspicuity, it will be readily admitted, is
the fundamental quality of Style *; a quality fo
efifential in every kind of Writings that, for the
want of it, nothing can atone. Without this^
the richeft ornaments of Style only glimmef
through the dark; and puzzle, inftead of pleaf-
ing, the reader. This, therefore, mafi: be our
firft objed; , to make our meaning clearly and
fully underftood , and urtderftood without the
leaft difficulty. " Oratio, " fays Quindilian , debet
" negligenter quoque audientibus eflfe aperta;
" ut in animum audientis, ficut fol in oculos,
" etiamfi in eum non intendatur ^ occurrat.
" Quare, non folum ut intelligere poffit, fed ne
" omnino poffit non intelligere curandum f- " If
we are obliged to follow a writer with much
care, to paufe, and to read over his fentences a
fecond time, in order to comprehend them fully^
he will never pleafe us long. Mankind are too
indolent to relilh fo much labour. 1 hey may

* " Nobis prima fit virtus ^ perfpicuitas, propria verba,'
*' redus ordo , noninlongum dilata Gonclufio ; nihil neque
" defit, neque fuperfluat.^-' Q_uiNCTiL. lib. viii^

t " Difcourfe ought always td be obvious, even' to
^' the molt earelefs and negligent hearer ; fo that the
" fenfe fhall ftrike his mind , as the light of the fun does
*' our eyes , though they are not direded upwards to it,
*' "We mul^ ftndy , not only that every hearer may undet'
*' Hand us , but that it fhall be impoffible for liim not to
** underftand us. ''

P «

-2U PERSPICUITY.

£ E c T. pretend to admire the author's depth, after they
X. have difcovered his meaning ; but they will
fcldom ke inclined to take up his work a fecond
time.

Authors fometimes plead the difficulty of
their fuhjecl , as an excufe for the want of
Perfpicuity. But the excufe can rarely, if ever,
be fuftained. For whatever a man conceives
clearly, that it is in his power, if he will be
at the trouble, to put into diflind; propofitions,
to exprefs clearly to others : and upon no
fubjed ought any man to write, where he cannot
think clearly. His ideas , indeed , may , very
excufably, be on fome fubjedis incomplete or
inadequate ; but ftill , as far as they go , they
^ oup:ht to be clear; and, wherever this is the
cafe, Perfpicuity, in expreffing them, is always
attainable. The obfcurity which reigns fo much
among many metaphyfical writers, is, for the
moft part, owing to the indiftindnefs of their
own conceptions. They fee the objed but in
a confufed light ; and , of courfe , can never
exhibit it in a clear one to others.

Perspicuity in writing, is not to be confidered
as only a fort of negative virtue , or freedom
from defed.. Tt has higher merit : It is a
degree of pofitive beauty. We are pleafed with
an author, we confider him as deferving praife ,
whb frees us from all fatigue of fearching for his
meaning ; who carries us through his fubjed
yirithput any embarraflm.ent or confufion} whofc

PERSPICUITY, 213

ftyle flows always like a limpid ftream, where L e c t,
we fee to the very bottom. X.

The ftndy of Perfpicuity requires attention,
firft , to fmgle words and phrafes, and then to
the conftrudion of fentences. I begin with
treating of the firft, and Ihall confine myfelf to
it in this Ledure.

Perspicuity , confidered with refped to
words and phrafes, requires thefe three qualities
in them; Puritij ^ Propriety, and Prccijion.

Purity and Propriety of Language, are often
ufed indifcriminately for each other ; and, indeed,
they are v^ery nearly allied. A diftindion ,
however, obtains between them. Purity, is the
Life of fuch words, and fuch conftrudions , as
belong to the idiom of the Language which we
fpeak ; in oppofition to words and phrafes that are
imported from other Languages , or that are
obfolete, or new coined, or ufed without proper
authority. Propriety , is the feledion of fuch
words in the Language, as the befl and moft
eftablilhed ufage has appropriated to thofe ideas
which we intend to exprefs by them. It implies
the corred and happy application of them ,
according to that ufage , in oppofition to
vulgarifms or low expreffions; and to words and.
phrafes , which would be lefs fignificant of the
ideas that we mean to convey. Style may be
pure , that is , it may all be ftridly Englifli,.
without Scotticifms or Gallicifms , or ungram-
matical irregular expreffions of any kind, and
may ^ neverthelefs , be deficient in Propriety.

P3

214 PERSPICUITY,

I E c T, The words may be ill chofen ; not adapted to
X, the fubjed, nor fully expreffive of the author's
fenfe. He has taken all his words and phrafes
from the general mafs of Engiilh Language j but
he has made his feledion among thefe words
unhappily. Whereas , Style cannot be proper
•without being alfo purej and where both Purity
and Propriety meet , befides making Style per-
fpicuous , they alfo render it graceful. There is
. noftandard, either of Purity or of Propriety,
but the pradice of the beft writers and fpeakers
in the country.

When I mentioned obfblete or new-coined
svords as incongruous with Purity of Style, it
will be eafily underftood, that fome exceptions
are to be made. On certain occafions, they may
have grace. Poetry admits of greater latitude
than profe, with refpedl to coining, or,, at leaf^,
jiew- compounding words; yet, even here, this
liberty fhould be ufed with a fparing hand. In
profe, fuch innovations are more hazardous,
and have a worfe effedl. They are apt to give
Style an affeded and conceited air; and fliould
never be ventured upon, except by fuch, whofe
cftablilhed reputation gives them fome degree of
didatorial power over Language.

The introdudion of foreign and learned
words, unlcfs where . neceffity requires them,
fhould always be avoided. Barren Languages
inay need fuch affiftances; but ours is not one
of thefe. Dean Swift, one of our moffc corredl;
writers, valued himfelf much on ufmg no words*

PRECISION IN STYLE. 215

but fuch as were of native growth : and his L k c t.
Language may, indeed, be confidered as a Hand- X.
ard of the ftrideft Purity and Propriety in the
choice of words. At prefent, we feem to be
departing from this ftandard. A multitude of
Latin words have, of late, been poured in upon
us. .On fome occafions, they give an appearance
of elevation and dignity to Style. But often
alfo , they render it ftiff and forced: And, in
general , a ^plain native Style , as it is more
intelligible to all readers, fo , by a proper ma-
nagement of words , it • can be made equally
flrong and expreffive with this Latinifed Englilh.

Let us now confider the import of Precifion
in Language , which , as it is the higheft part
of the quality denoted by Perfpicuity , merits
a full explication i and the more, becaufe diftind:
ideas are, perhaps, not commonly formed about it.

The exad: import of Precifion may be drawn
from the etymology of the word. It comes from
" pr3ecidere , " to cut off: It imports retrenching
-all fuperfluities , and pruning the expreffion fo,
as to exhibit neither more nor lefs than an exadl
copy of his idea who ufes it. I obferved before,
that it is often difficult to feparate the qualities
of Style from the qualities of Thought; and ie
is found fo in this inftance. For , in order to
^^write with Precifion , though this be properly
a quality of Style , one muft poiTefs a very
confiderable degree of diflindnefs and accuracy
in his manner of thinking.

The \Yords, which a man ufes to exprefs his

P4

2i6 PRECISION IN STYLE.

X, E c T» ideas , may be faulty in three refpeds : They
X. may either not exprefs that idea which the
author intends , but fome other which only
reembles, or is a-kin to it ; or, they may exprefs
that idea, but not quite fully and completely:
or, they may exprefs it, together with fomething
more than he intends. Precifion ftands oppofed
to all thefe three faults; but chiefly to the laft.
In an author's writing with Propriety, his being
free of the two former faults feems implied.
The words which he ufes are proper; that is,
they exprefs that idea which he intends , and
they exprefs it fully; but to be Precife, fignifies,
that they exprefs that idea, and no more. There
is nothing in his words which introduces any
foreign idea , any fuperfluous unfeafonable accef-
fory, fo as to mix it confufedly with the principal
objedl, and thereby to render our conception
of that objecft loofe and indiftind. This requires a
writer to have, himfelf, a very clear apprehenfion
of the objed he means to prefent to us ; to have
laid faft hold of it in his mind; and never to
waver in any one view he takes of it: a per-
fedion to which, indeed, few writers attain,
The ufe and importance of Precifion, may be
' deduced from the nature of the human mind.
It never can view, clearly and diftindly, above
one objed: at a time. If it muft look at two
or three together, efpecially objeds among which
there is refemblance or connedion , it finds itfelf
confufed and embarrafifed. It cannot clearly
perceive in what they agree, and in what they
differ. Thus, were any objed, fuppofe fome

PRECISION IN STYLE. 217

tnimal , to be prefented to me , of whofe ftruc- L e c T.
ture I wanted to form a diftindl notion , I would X.
defire all its trappings to be taken off, I would
require it to be brought before me by itfelf, and
to ftand alone, that there might be nothing to
diftracl my attention. The fame is the cafe with
words. If , when you would inform me of
your meaning, you alfo tell me more than what
conveys it; if you join foreign circumftances to
the principal objed; ; if, by unnecefiarily varying
the expreflion , you fiiift the point of view ,
and make me fee fometimes the object itfelf,
and fometimes another thing that is conneded
with it; you thereby oblige me to look on
feveral objecfls at once, and I lofe fight of the
principal. You load the animal, you are fhowing
me, with fo many trappings and collars, and
bring fo many of the fame fpecies before me ,
fomcvvhat refembling, and yet fomewhat differing,
that I fee none of them clearly.

This forms what is called a Loofe Style; and
is the proper oppofite to Precifion. It generally
arifes from ufmg a fuperfiuity of words. Feeble
writers employ a multitude of words to make
themfelves underftood , as they think , more
diftindlly ; and they only confound the reader.
They are fenfible of not having caught the
precife expreffion, to convey what they would
fignify ; they do not, indeed, conceive their
own meaning very precifely themfelves; and,
therefore , help it out , as they can , by this and
the other word, which may, as they fuppofe.

2i8 ' PRECISION IN STYLE.

L E t T. fupply the defecH:, and bring you fomewhat
X. nearer to their idea : They are always going
about it, and about it , but never jull hit the
thing. The image as they fet it before you , is
always feen double ; and no double image is
diftindt. When an author tells me of his hero's
courage in the day of battle, the expreffion is
precife, and I underftand it fully. But if, from
the defire of multiplying words , he will needs
praife his courage and fortitude; at the moment he
joins thefe words together, my idea begins to
waver. He means to exprefs one quality more
ftrongly ; but he is , in truth , exprefling two.
Courage refifts danger ; fortitude fupports pain.
The occafion of exerting each of thefe qualities is
different ; and being led to think of both togeth-
er, when only one of them fhould be in my
view, my view is rendered unfteady^ and my
Conception of the objed indiftind.

From what I have faid, it appears that an
author may, in a qualified fenfe, be perfpicuous,
, while yet he is far from being precife. He ufes
proper words , and a proper arrangement ; he
gives you the idea as clear as he conceives it
himfelf ; and fo far he is perfpicuous .- but the
ideas are not very clear in his own mind ; they
are loofe and general; and, therefore, cannot
be expreffed with Precifion. All fubjeds do not
equally require Precifion. It is fufficient, on
many occafions , that we have a general view
of the meaning. The fubjed, perhaps, is of
the kiio%Yn and familiar kind ; ajid we are in no

PRECISION IN STYLE, 219

hazard of miftaking the fenfe of the author , L e c t.
though every word which he ufes be not precife X.
gnd exad.

Few authors , for inflance , in the Englifh
Language, are more clear and perfpicuous, on
the whole , than Archbifhop Tillotfon , and Sir
William Temple; yet neither of them are
remarkable for Precifion. They are loofe and
diffufe ; and accuflomed to exprefs their meaning
by ^feveral words , which fhow you fully where-
abouts it lies , rather than to fingle out thofe
expreflions, which would convey clearly the
idea they have in view , and no more. Neither,
indeed, is Precifion. the prevailing charader of
I\Ir. Addifon's Style ; although he is not fo
deficient in this refped; as the other two authors.

Lord Shaftsbury^s faults, in point of
Precifion , are much greater than Mr. Addifon's ;
and the more unpardonable, becaufe he is a
profeffed philofophical writer; who, as fuch,
ought, above all things, to have fludied Preci-
fion. His Style has both great beauties, and
great faults ; and , on the whole , is by no means
a fafe model for imitation. Lord Shaftfbury was
well acquainted with the power of words;
thofe which he employs are generally proper
and well founding ; he has great variety of
them ; and his arrangement , .as fhall be after*
wards fliown , is commonly beautiful. His defed,
in Precifion , is not owing fo much to indiftindt
or confufed ideas, as ^o perpetual afFedation,
He is fond , to excefs , of the pomp and parade

220 PRECISION IN STYLE.

L E c T. of Language; he is never fatisfied with exprell'
X. fing any thing clearly and firnply; he muft
always give it the drefs of ft ate and majefty.
Hence perpetual circumlocutions , and many
words and phrafes employed to defcribe fome-
what, that would have been defcribed much
better by one of tkem. If he has occafion to
ynention any perfon or author , he very rarely
mentions him by his proper name. In the treatile,
entitled, Advice to an Author, he defcants for
two or three pages together upon Ariftotle ,
without once naming him in any other way ,
than the Mafter Critic , the Mighty Genius and
Judge of Art, the Prince of Critics, the Grand
Mafter of Art, and Confummate Fhilologift. hi
the fame way , the Grand Poetic Sire , the
Philofophical Patriarch , and his Difciple of
Noble Birth, and lofty Genius, are the only
names by which he condefcends tO' diftinguifli
Homer , Socrates , and Plato , in another paffage
of the fame treatife. This method of diftinguifli-
ing perfons is extremely affedled ; but it is not
fo contrary to Precifion , as the frequent circum-
locutions he employs for all moral ideas ; atten-
tive , on every occafion , more to the pomp of
Language, than to the clearnefs which he ought
to have ftudied as a philofopher. The moral
fenfe , for inftance , after he had once defined it,
was a clear term ; but , how vague becomes the
idea, when, in the next page, he calls it,
" That natural affedion , and anticipating fancy,
" which makes the fenfe of right and wrong ? ''

PRECISION IN STYLE. %2i

Self examination, or refledlion on our own L e c t.

conducl, is an idea conceived with eafe; but X.

when it is wrought into all the forms of, " A

„ man's dividing himfelf into two parties,

55 becoming a felf-dialoglrt, entering into part-

53 nerlhip with himfelf, forming the dual number

55 pradically within himfelf;" we hardly know

what to make of it. On fome occafions , he fo

adorns , or rather loads with words the plaineft

and fimpleffc propofitions, as, if not to obfcure,

at leaft , to enfeeble them.

In the following paragraph , for example , of
the Inquiry concerning Virtue, he means to
Hiow , that, by every ill action we hurt our
mind, as much as one who fiiould fwallow poifon,
or give himfelf a wound , would hurt his body.
Obferve what a redundancy of words he pours
forth: "Now, if the fabrick of the mind or
** temper appeared to us, fuch as it really is;
55 if we faw it impoffible to remove hence any
35 one good or orderly affedion , or to introduce
,5 any ill ot diforderly one, without drawing
53 on, in fome degree, that diflblute ftate which,
55 at its height , is confelled to be fo miferable ;
35 it would then, undoubtedly, be confelTed ,
53 that fine e no ill, immoral, or unjuft adion,
33 can be committed, without either a new
33 inroad and breach on the teriiper and paffions,
33 or a further advancing of that execution
33 already done ; whoever did ill , or adted in
33 prejudice of his integrity, good-nature, or
3^ worthy would of jiecelTity^ ad -with greater

zzz PRECISION IN STYLE,

L E c T. 55 cruelty towards himfelf , than he who fcrupled
X. 55 not to fwallo-w what was poifonous , or who,
,j with his own hands , fliould voluntarily
55 mangle or wound his outward form or con-
55 ftitution , natural limbs or body*," Here, to
commit a bad adion , is, firffc, "To remove a
55 good and orderly affection , and to introduce
55 an ill or diforderly one ;*' next , it is , " To
55 commit an adion that is ill, immoral , and
55 unjuft;" and in the next line, it is, "To do
55 ill , or to a6l in prejudice of integrity , good-
55 nature , and worth ;" nay ^ fo very fimple a
thing as a man's wounding himfelf, is-, "To
55 mangle , or wound , his outward form and
55 conftitution , his natural limbs or body." Such
fuperfluity of words is difguftful to every reader
of corred; tafte; and ferves no purpole but to
embarrafs and perplex the fenfe. This fort of
Style is elegantly defcribed by Quindilian , "Eft
55 in quibufdam turba inaniuni verborum , qui
55 dum communem ioquendi morem reformidant,
55 dudi fpecie nitoris , circumeunt omnia copiofa
„ loquacitate quae dicere volunt*" Lib» vii.
cap. 2.

. ^ Charaderlft. Vol. It. p. 8^

* " A crowd of unmeaning words is brought together ,
" by fome authors , who ^ afraid of exprefling themfelves
" after a common and ordinary manner , and allured by
*' an appearance of fplendour , furround every thing which
" they mean to fay with a certain copious loquacity."

PRECISION IN" STYLE, 223

The great foiirce of a loofe Style , in op- L e c T.
pofition to Precifion , is the injudicious ufe of X.
thofe words termed Synonymous. They are
called Synonymous, becaufe they agree in ex-
'preffing one principal idea; but, for the moft
part, if not always, they exprefs it with fom.e
diverfity in the circumflances. They are varied
by fome acceflbry idea which every word intro-
duces , and which forms the diftindion between
them. Hardly , in any Language , are there two
words that convey precifely the fame idea ; a
perfon thoroughly converfant in the propriety
of the Language, will always be able to obferve
fomething that diftinguifhes them. As they are
like different ihades of the fame colour , an ac-
curate writer can employ them to great ad-
vantage, by ufing them, fo as to heighten and
to finifh the picture which he gives us. He
fupplies by one. what was wanting in the other,
to the force, or to the luftre of the image which
he means to exhibit. But, in order to this
end, he muft be extremely attentive to the
choice which he makes of them, for the bulk
of writers are very apt to confound them with
each other ; and to employ them carelefsly ,
merely for the fake of filling up a period, or of
rounding and diverfifying the Language, as if
their fignification were exadlly the fame, while,
in truth, it is not. Hence a certain mift, and
indiftindlnefs , is unwarily thrown over Style.

In the Latin Language . there are no two
words we would more readily take to b^ fyn-

224 PRECISION IN STYLE.

L E c T. onymoLis , than amare and diligr.re. Cicero ,
X. however, has fhown us, that there is a very
dear diflindlion betwixt them , " Quid ergo ,"
fays he, in one of his epiflles, " tibi commendem
33 eiim quern tu ipfe diJigis ? Sed tamen ut fcires
33 eum non a me dili^i fokim, verum etiam
„ amari , ob eam rem tibi ha^c fcribo *." In the
fame manner tutus and fecurus , are words which
we would readily confound ; yet their meaning
is different. Tutus ^ fignifies out of danger;
fecurus , free from the dread of it. Seneca has
elegantly marked this diftindion ; " Tuta fcelera
j3 effe poflunt, fecura non poffunt *." In our
own Language, very many inftances might be
given of a difference in meaning among words
reputed Synonymous; and, as the fubjedl is of
importance, I lliail now point out fome of thefe.
The inftances which I am to give , may them-
felves be of ufe ; and they will ferve to fliew the
neceflity of attending , with care and firiclaefs,
to the exad import of words , if ever we would
write with Propriety or Precifion.

Aujierity ^ Severity^ Riyour. Aufterity, relates to
the manner of living} Severity, of thinking;
Rigour, of puniflung. To Aufterity , is oppofed
Effeminacy ; to Severity , Rekixation ; to Ri-
gour, Clemency. A Hermit, is auftere in his
life ; a Cafuift, fevere inhis application of religion
gr law ; a Judge, rigorous in his fentences. "
* Ad Famil. 1. 13. ep. 47.

t Epifr. 97-

Cujfom^

PRECISION IN STYLE. S25

Cujlom , Habit. Ciiftom , refpedls the adion ; L E C T.
Habit , the ador. By Cuftom , we mean the fre- X.
quent repetition of the fame ad ; by Habit, the
efFed which that repetition produces on the mind
or body. By the Cuftom of walking often on the
ftreets, one acquires a Habit of idlenefs.

Surprifed ^ ajloniih:d ^ amazed^ confounded. lam
furprifed with what is new or unexpeded; lam
aftoniChed , at what is vaft or great ; I am
amazed, with what is incomprehenfible ; I amcon«.
founded, by what is fhocking or terrible.

Dc/iji , renounce, quit ^ leave off] Each of thefe
words imply fome purfuit or objed relinquifhed;
but from different motives. We defift from the
difficulty of accomphfhing. We renounce , on
account of the difagreeablenefs of the objed,
or purfuit. We quit, for the fake of fome other
thing which interefts us m- re ; and we leave off,
becaufe we are weary of the defign. A Politician
defifts from his defigns , when he finds they are
impradicable ; he renounces the court, becaufe
he has been affronted by it ; he quits ambition
for ftudy or retirement; and leaves off his attend-
ance on the great, as he becomes old and weary
of it.

Fride , Vanity. Pride makes us efleem ourfel-
ves ; Vanity , makes us defire the efteem of
others. It is juft to fay, as Dean Swift has done,
that a man is too proud to be vain.

Hauqhtinefs, Difdain, Haughtinefs, is founded on ^

the high opinion we. entertain of ourfelves ; Pif-
dain, on the low opinion we have of others, .

Vol. I. Q,

225 PRECISION IN STYLE.

E E c T. "^^ dijlinguish , to frparatc. We diftingiiifh , what
X^ we want not to confound with another thing ;
we feparate , what we want to remove from it.
Objedis are diftinguifhed from one another , by
their qualities. They are feparated , by the dif-
tance of time or place.

To Tpeary , to fatigue. The continuance of the
fame thing wearies us ; labour fatigues us. I am
weary with flanding j I am fatigued with walk-
ing. A fuitor wearies us by his perfeverance ;
fatigues us by his importunity.

To abhor ^ to detefl. To abhor imports, fimply,
flrong diflike ; to deteft; , imports alfo ftrong
difapprobation. One abhors being in debt ; he
detefts treachery.

To invent , to difcover. We invent things that
are new ; we difcover what was before hidden.
Galileo invented the telefcope ; Harvey difco-
vered the circulation of the blood.

Only , alone. Only , imports that there is no
other of the fame kind ; alone , imports being
accompanied by no other. An only child , is
one who has neither brother nor fifler ; a child
alone , is one who is left by itfelf. There is a
difference , therefore , in precife Language , be-
twixt thefe two phrafes , " Virtue only makes us
„ happy;" and, "Virtue alone makes us happy."
Virtue only makes us happy, imports, that no-
thing elfe can do it. Virtue alone makes us hap-
py, imports, that virtue , by itfelf, or unaccom-
panied with other advantages , is fufficicnt to
d© it.

P.RECISION IN STYLE. 227

Entire^ complete, A thing is entire, by wanting L E C T.
none of its parts j complete, by wanting none of X.
the appendages that belong to it. A man may
have an entire houfe to himfelf ; and yet not
have one complete apartment.

Tranquillity ^ Peace , Calm. Tranquillity , refpedls
a fituation free from trouble , confidered in itfelf ;
Peace , the fame fituation with refpcd; to any
caufes that might interrupt it; Calm, with regard
to a difturbed fituation going before , or fol-
lowing it. A good man enjoys Tranquillity , in
himfelf; Peace, with others; and Calm, after
the ftorm.

A Difficulty ^ an ObJIacle. A difficulty, embarraf-
fes ; an Obftacle , ftops us. We remove the one;
we furmount the other. Generally , the firft ,
exprefifes fomewhat arifing from the nature and
circumftances of the affair; the fecond , fomewhat
arifing from a foreign caufe, Philip found Diffi-
culty in managing the Athenians from the nature
of their difpofitions ; but the eloquence of De-
mofthenes was the greateft obftacle to his
defigns.

Wifdoni , Prudence, Wifdom , leads us to fpeak
and ad what is moft proper. Prudence , prevents
our fpeaking or ading improperly. A wife man ,
employs the mofl proper means for fuccefs , a
prudent m.an , the fafeft means for not being
brought into danger.

Enough^ Sufficient. Enough, relates to the quan-
tity v/hich one wifhes to have of any thing.
Sutiicieat, relates to the ufe that is to be made

228 PRECISION IN STYLE.

% E c T. of it. Hence, Enough , generally imports a greater
X. quantity than Sufficient does. The covetous man
never has enough; although he has what is fuf-
ficient for nature.

To avo-vo , to acknorvlcdge , to confifs. Each of
thefe words imports the affirmation of a fad;,
but in very different, circumftances. To avow ,
fuppofes the perfon to glory in it; to acknov/-
ledge , fuppofes a fmall degree of faultinefs ,
which the acknowledgment compenfates : to coa-
fefs , fuppofes a higher degree of crime. A
patriot avows his oppofition to a bad minifter,
and is applauded; a gentleman acknowledges his
miftake , and is forgiven ; a prifoner confcffes
the crime he is itccufed of, and is puniHied,

To remark , to ohferve. We remark , in the way
of attention, in order to remember; we obfcrve,
in the way of examination , in order to judge.
A traveller remarks the moil; ftriking objed he
fees ;, a general obferves all the motions of his
enemy.

Equivocal^ Ambiguous. An Equivocal ExprefTion
is, one which has one fenfe open, and defigned
to be underftood ; another fenfe concealed , and
underftood only by the perfon who ufes it. An
Ambiguous Expreffion is , one which has appa-
rently two fenfes, and leaves us at a lofs which
of them to give it. An equivocal expreffion is
ufed with an intention to deceive ; an ambiguous
ore , when it is ufed with defign , is, with an
intention not to give full information, An honeft

PRECISION IN STYLE. 229

ttiafi will never employ an equivocal exprefiion ; L e c t.
a confafed man may often utter ambiguous ones, X.
■without any defign. I fhall give only one in-
fiance more.

With , By. Both thefe particles exprefs the
connedlion between fome inftrument, or means
of effecfling an endj and the agent who employs
it : but TTZfA, exprelTes a more clofe and imme-
diate connexion ; by ^ r more remote one. We
kill a man -vpith a fword ; he dies by violence.
The criminal is bound -with ropes by the execu-
tioner. The proper diflindlion in the ufe of thefe
particles , is elegantly marked in a pafiage of Dr.
Robertfon's Hiftory of Scotland. When one of
the old Scottifh kings was making an enquiry
into the tenure by which his nobles held their
lands , they ftarted up , and drew their fwords :\
" By thefe," faid they, " we acquired our lands,
5, and -vpith thefe , we will defend them. By thefe
i, we acquired our. lands ; " fignifies the more
remote means of acquifition by force and martial
deeds; and , " -with thefe we will defend. them ; "
■iignifies the immediate diredl inftrument , the
fword , which they would employ in their de-
fence.

These areinflancesof v/ords, in our Language,
Avhich , by carelefs writers , are apt to be
■employed as perfeclly fynonymous , and yet are
not fo. Their fignifications approach , but are not
precifely the fame. The more the diftindion in
the meaning of fuch v/ords is weighed^ and at-

S30 PRECISION IN STYLE.

L E c T. tended to , tlie more clearly and forcibly fiiall
X. we fpeak or write *.

Froivi all that has been faid on this head , it
will now appear , that, in order to write or fpeak
with Precifion, two things are efpecially requifite;
one, that an author's own ideas be clear and
diftind ; and the other , that he have an exadl
and full comprehenfion of the force of thofe
words which he employs. Natural genius is here
required ; labour and attention ftill more. Deaa
Swift is one of the authors, in our Language,
moft diftinguifhed for Frecifion of Style. In his
writings , we feldom or never find vague ex-
preffions , and fynonymous words , carelefly
thrown together. His meaning is always clear,
and ftrongly marked.

I H,'\D occafion to obferve before, that though
all fubjedls of writing or difcourfe demand Per.
fpicuity, yet all do not require the fame degree
of that exadt Precifion, which I have endeavoured

* 111 French , there is a very ufeful treatife on this
fubjecft , the Abbe Girard's Synanymes Frarzpis , in which
he has made a large collecT:ion of fuch apparent Syno-
nymes in the» Language , and fiiown , with much accuracy ,
the difference in their fignification. It were much to be
wifhed , that fome fuch work were undertaken for our
tongue , and executed with equal tafte and judgment.
Nothing would contribute more to precife and elegant wri-
ting. In the mean time , this French Treatife may be per-
ufed with confiderable profit. It will accuftom perfons
to weigh , with attention , the force of words ; and will
fuggeft feveral difbindtions betwixt fynonymous terms in
our own language, analogous to thofe which he has
-pointed out in the French ; and , -accordingly , feveral of the
inftances above given were fuggefted by the work of this author.

PRECISION IN STYLE. 231

to explain. It is , indeed , in every fort of wri- L e € t.
ting , a great beauty to have , at leaft , fome X,
meafure of Precifion , in difbindtion from that
loofe profufion of words which imprints no clear
idea on the reader's mind. But we muft , at the
fame time , be on our guard , lefb too great a
ftudy of Precifion , efpecially in fubjeds where
it is not ftridly requifite , betray us into a dry
and barren Style ; left, from the defire of prun-
ing too clofely, we retrench all copioufnefs and
ornament. Some degree of this failing may ,
perhaps , be remarked in Dean Swift's ferious
works. Attentive only to exhibit his ideas clear
and exadl , refting wholly on his fenfe and dif-
tincflnefs , he appears to reject, difdainfully , all
embeilifhment which , on fome occafions , may
be thought to render his manner fomewhat hard
and dry. To unite together Copioufnefs and
Precifion , to be flowing and graceful , and , at
the fame time , correct and exad; in the choice
of every word , is , no doubt , one of the higheft
and moft difficult attainments in writing. Some
kinds of compofition may require more of Co-
pioufnefs and Ornament; others, more of Pre-
cifion and Accuracy ; nay , in the fame compofi-
tion , the different parts of it may demand a
proper variation of manner. But we muft ftudy
never to facrifice , totally, any one of thefe qua-
lities to the other ; and , by a proper management,
both of them may be made fully confiftent , if
our own ideas be precife , and our knowledge
and ftock of words be , at the fame time 3
extenfive. ,Q^ 4

LECTURE XL

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

1/ E c T, JTIAVING begun to treat of Style, in the
XL laft Ledlure I coniidered its fundamental quality,
Perfpicuity. What I have faid of this, relates
chiefly to the choice of Words. From words
I proceed to Sentences ; and as , in all writing
and difcourfe , the proper compofition and ftruc-
ture of Sentences is of the higheft importance , I
fhall treat of this fully. Though Perfpicuity be
the general head under which I, at prefent, con-
fider language, I fhall not confine myfelf to this
quality alone, in Sentences, but fhall enquire
alfo, what is requifite for their Grace and Beau-
ty: that I may bring together, under one view,
all that feems neceffary to be attended to in the
conftrudion and arrangement of words in a
Sentence.

Ir is not eafy to give an exacT; definition of
a Sentence , or Period , farther , than as it al-
ways implies fome one complete propofition or
enunciation of thought:. Ariftotle's definition is,

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. S33

in the main, a good one: ^' Ai^ig g%i?(ra6 <5t^%^v k.a.i L e c T,
" TiXiVTyjV zctS-' ctvrviv aat fjLzyiB og tucrvvoTTTOv: " ^^•
'^ A form of Speech which hath a beginning and
" an end within itfelf , and is of fuch a length
" as to be eafily comprehended at once.
This , however , admits of great latitude. For
a Sentence, or Period, confiPcS always of com-
ponent parts , which are called its members ; and
as thefe members may be either few or many,
and may be connected in feveral different ways,
the fame thought, or mental propofition , may
often be either brought into one Sentence , or
fplit into two^ or three, without the material
breach of any rule.

The firft variety that occurs in the confider-
atlon of Sentences , is, the diftimflion of long
and Ihort ones. The precife length of Senten-
ces , as to the number of words , or the number
of members, which may enter into them, cannot
be afcertained by any definite meafure. Only,
it is obvious , there may be an extreme on either
fide. Sentences, immoderately long, and con-
fifting of too many members , always tranfgrefs
fome one or other of the rules which I fliall men- ^
tion foon, as neceffary to be obferved in every
good Sentence. In difcourfes that are to befpok-
cn, regard muft be had to the eafmefs of pro-
nunciation , which is not confiftent with too
long periods. In compofitions where pronuncia-
tion has no place , ftill , however , by ufmg
long periods too frequently, an author over-
loads the reader's ear , and fatigues his attention.

234 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. For long Periods require, evidently, more at-
XI. tention than fhort ones , in order to perceive
clearly the connexion of the feveral parts, and^
to take in the whole at one view. At the fame
time, there may be an excefs in too many fhort
Sentences alfo ; by which the fenfe is fplit and
broken , the connexion of thought weakened,
and the memory burdened, by prefenting to it
a long fucceffion of minute objeds.

With regard to the length and conftrudion
of Sentences , the French critics make a very
jufb diftindlion of Style, into Style Feriodhjue^
and Styk Coupe. The Style Periodlque is, where
the fentences are compofed of feveral members
linked together, and hanging upon one another,
fo that the fenfe of the whole is not brought
out till the clofe. This is the moft pompous,
mufical , and oratorical manner of compofmg ;
as in the following fentence of Sir William Tem-
ple: " If you look about you, and confider
" the lives of others as well as your own ; if
" you think how few are born with honour ,
" and how many die without name or children;
*' how little beauty we fee, and how few friends
'* we hear of; how many difeafes, and how
" much poverty there is in the world ; you
" will fall down upon your knees, and, inftead
" of repining at one afflidion , will admire fo
" many blelTings which you have received from
" the hand of God." (Letter to Lady EfTex.)-
Cicero abounds with Sentences conflruded after
this manner.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 235

The Si^yle Coupe is , where the fenfe is formed L e C t.
into fliort independent propofitions, each com- XI.
plete within itfelf ; as in the following of Mr.
Pope : " I confefs , it was want of confideration
" that made me an author. I writ, becaufe it
" amufed me. I correded , becaufe it was as
" pleafant to me to correal as to write. I pub-
" hfhed, becaufe, I was told, I might pleafe
" fuch as it was a credit to pleafe." (Preface to
his works. ) This is very much the French me-
thod of writing ; and always fuits gay and eafy
fubjedls. The Style Pe'riodique , gives an air of
gravity and dignity to compofition. The Style
Coupe, is more lively and llriking. According
to the nature of the compofition, therefore, and
the general character it ought to bear , the one
or other may be predominant. But, in almoft
every kind of compofition , the great rule is to
intermix them. For the ear tires of either of
them when too long continued : Whereas , by
a proper mixture of long and fhort Periods, the
ear is gratified , and a certain fprightlinefs is
joined with majefty in our ftyle. " Non fem-
*' per," fays Cicero (defcribing very expref-
fively , thefe two different kinds of Styles, of
which I have been fpeaking,) " non femper uten-
" dum eft perpetuitate, et quafi converfione ver-
" borum ; fed f^epe carpenda mcmbris minutio-
^' ribus oratio eft *, >.

* " It is not proper always to employ acontintied train,
and a fort of regular compafs of phrafes ; but ftyle
ought to be often broken down into fmaller members."

1^

236 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

:l

L E C T. This variety is of fo great confequence , tliat
XL it mufl be ftudied , not only in the fucceiTion ofl
long and Ihort Sentences , but in the flruclure*
of our Sentences alfo. A train of Sentences, con-
iiruded in the fame manner, and with the fame
miraber of members , whether long or fhort ,
lliould never be allowed to fncceed one another
However mufical each of them may be, it has
a better effed to introduce even a difcord, than
to cloy the ear with the repetition of fimilar
founds: For, nothing is fo tirefome as perpetual
uniformity. In this article of the conftruclion
and diftribution of his Sentences , Lord Shafts-
bury has fhown great art. In the laft Lcdure,
I obferved , that he is often guilty of facrificing
precifion of ftyle to pomp of expreffion ; and
that there runs through his whole manner , a
fliffnefs and affedation , which render him very
unfit to be confidered as a general model. But,
as his ear was fine , and as he was extremely at-
tentive to every thing that is elegant, he has
ftudied the proper intermixture of long 'and
-fhort Sentences; with variety and harmony in
their ftrudure , more than any other Englifh
author ; and for this part of compofition he
deferves attention.

From thefe general obfervations , let us now
defcend to a more particular confideration of the
qualities that are required to make a Sentence
perfed. So much depends upon the proper con-
ftruclion of Sentences , that , in every fort of
^ compofition , we cannot be too ftrid in our at-

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES^. 23?

tendon to it. For , be the fubjed v/hat it will, L e c T>

if the Sentences be conftrucled in a clurafy, per- XI.

plexed , or feeble manner , it is impoffible that

a work, compofed of fuch Sentences, can be

read with pleafure , or even with profit. Where- '

as , by giving attention to the rules which

relate to this part of ftyle , we acquire the habit

of exprefTing ourfelves with Peripicuity and

Elegance; and , if a diforder chance to arife in

fome of our Sentences, we immediately fee where

it lies , and are able to recTiify it *.

The properties moft effential to a perfed; Sen-
tence , feem to me , the four following: i. Clear-
nefs and Prccifion. 2. Unity. %. Strength. 4.
Harmony. Each of thefe I Ihall illuftrate fepar-
ately , and at fome length.

Tue firft is, Clearnefs and Piecifion. The
leafk failure here , the leaft degree of ambiguity,
which leaves the mind in any fort of fufpence as

* On the Strudure of Sentences , the Ancients appear
to have beftowed a great deal of attention and care. The
Treatife of Demetrius Phalereus , ■^rsp Eow-wsia? , abounds
■with obfervations upon .the choice and collocation of words
carried to fuch a degree of nicety , as would frequently
feem to us minute. The Treatife of Dlonyfius of Halicar-
naffus , Ttiqi (Tuv^jo-c&jc ovov-otj-wv , is more mafterly ; but is
chiefly confined to the mufical ftrudure of Periods ; a
fubjedl , for which the Greek Language afforded much
more anfiitance to their writers , than our Tongue admits.
On the arrangement of words , in Englifh Sentences ,
the xviiith chapter of Lord Kaim's Elements of Criticifm
ought to be confulted ; and alfo , the 2d Yolurae of Dr.
Campbell's Philofophy of Rhetoric.

238 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L fi c T. to the meaning, ought to be avoided with the
XI. greateft care ; nor is it fo eafy a matter to keep
always clear of this , as one might , at firft, ima-
gine. Ambiguity arifes from two caufes : either
from a wrong choice of words , or a wrong
collocation of them. Of the choice of words,
as far as regards Perfpicuity , I treated fully in
the laft Ledure. Of the collocation of them , I
am now to treat. The firft thing to be ftudied
here, is, to obferve exadlly the rules of gram-
mar ; as far as thefe can guide us. But as the
grammar of our Language is not extenfive, there'
may often be an ambiguous collocation of words,
where there is no tranfgreflion of any gramma-
tical rule. The relations which the words , or
members of a period , bear to one another, can-
not be pointed out in Englifh , as in the Greek
or Latin, by means of termination; it is afcer-
tained only by the pofition in which they ftand.
Hence a capital rule in the arrangement of Sen-
tences is, that the words or members moft near-
ly related , fliould be placed in the Sentence,
as near to each other as poflible ; fo as to make
their mutual relation clearly appear. This is a
rule not always obferved , even by good writers,
as ftridly as it ought to be. It will be necefTary
to produce fome inftances , which will both
jGhow the importance of this rule , and make the
application of it be underftood.

First, In the pofition of adverbs, which are
ufed to qualify the fignification of fomething
which either precedes or follows them, there is

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 239

often a good deal of nicety. " By greatnefs, " L e c t.
fays Mr. Addifon , in the Spedator , No. 412. XI.
" I do not only mean the bulk of any fingle
" objecfl, but the largenefs of a whole view.
Here the place of the adverb only, renders it a
limitation of the following word , mean. " I do

'" not only mean." The queftion may then be
put , What does he more than mean ? Had he
placed it after bulk, ftill it would have been
wrong. " I do not mean the bulk only of any
" fmgle objed. For we might then afk, What
does he mean more than the bulk ? Is it the

\ colour ? Or any other property ? Its proper

ij place, undoubtedly, is, after the word ohjecl,
" By greatnefs, I do not mean the bulk of any
" fmgle objed: only ; " for then , when we put
the queftion, What more does he mean than the

I bulk of a fmgle objedl ? The anfwer comes out
exadlly as the author intends , and gives it ;
" The largenefs of a whole view." — " Theifm,"
fays Lord Shaftfbury, " can only be oppofed

j " to polytheifm , or atheifm. " Does he mean
that theifm is capable of nothing elfs , except
being oppofed to. polytheifm or atheifm ? This
is what his words literally import , through the
wrong collocation of only. He fhould have faid,
" Theifm can be oppofed only to polytheifm or
" atheifm. " — In like manner , Dean Swift
(Projed for the advancement of Religion) , " The
" Romans underftood liberty, at leaft, as well
" as we. " Thefe words are capable of two
different fenfes, according as the emphafis, in

240 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T, reading them , is laid upon liberty , or upon at
XI. leafi. lathe firft cafe , they will fignify, that
whatever other things we may underftand better
than the Romans, liberty, at leaft, was one thing
which they underftood as well as we. In the
fecond cafe, they will import , that liberty was
underftood, at leaji as well by them as by us;
meaning, that by them it- was better under-
ftood. If this laft, as I make no doubt, was
Dean Swift's own meaning, the ambiguity would
have been avoided, and the fenfe rendered in-
dependent of the manner of pronouncing, by ar-
ranging the words thus : " The Romans under-
" ftood liberty as well, at ieaft, as we." The
fad is , with refpedl to fuch adverbs , as , only ,
wholly , at leafi , and the reft of that tribe, that in
common difcourfe, the tone and eraphafis we ufe in
pronouncing them , generally ferves to fhow their
reference, and to make the meaning clear; and
hence , we acquire a habit of throwing them ia
loofely in the courfe of a period. But, in wri-
ting , where a man fpeaks to the eye , and not :
to the ear, he ought to be more accurate; and
fo to conned thofe adverbs with the words |
which they qualify , as to put his meaning
out of doubt upon the firft infpec1;ion.

Secondly, When a circumftance is intcr-
pofed in the middle of a Sentence , it fo}-netimcs
requires attention how to place it, fo as to
diveft it of all ambiguity. For inftance: *' Are
„ thefe defigns " (fays Lord Bolingbroke , Difiert.
on Parties, Dedicat.) "'Are thefe- defigns which

» any

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 241

I, any man, who is born a Briton , in any cir- L e c t.
„ cumftances , in any fituation , ought to be XI.
„ afhamed or afraid to avow?" Here w,e are
left at a lofs , whether thefe words , " in any
" circumjianccs , in any fituation^" are connected
with , " a man born in Britain , in any circum-
*' fiances , or fituation , " or with that man's
*' avowing his defigns, in any circumflances , or '
" fituation , into which he may be brought ? "
If the latter, as feems moft probable, was in-
tended to be the meaning, the arrangement
ought to have been conduced thus : " Are
*' thefe defigns , which any man who is born a
" Briton, ought to be afhamed or afraid, in
*' any circumftances, in any fituation, to avow?'*
But,

Thirdly , Still more attention is required to
the proper difpofition of the relative pronouns,
Tp/io, "vrhichj -voha'- , Tehofe , and of all thofe parti-
cles which exprefs the connedion of the parts
of Speech with one another, .As all reafoning
depends upon this connedion , we cannot be
too accurate and precife here. A fmall error
may overcloud the meaning of the whole Sen-
tence ; and even , where the meaning is intelli-
gible , yet v/here thefe relative particles are out
of their proper place, we always find fomething
awkward and disjointed in the Strudure of the
Sentence. Thus, in the Spedator (No. 54)
*' This kind of wit," fays Mr. Addifon , "was
" very much in vogue among our countrymen,
" about an age or t>YO ago , who did not

Vol. L " R

242 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. " pradife it for any oblique reafon , but purely^
XI. " for the fake of being witty. " We are at n'.>
lofs about the meaning here; but the conftrudioa
■would evidently be mended by difpofmg of the
circumftance , " about an age or two ago," in
fuch a manner as not to feparate the relative
wAo, from its antecedent our countrymen^ in thi,-^
way : '' About an age or two ago , this kind
" of wit was very much in vogue among our
*' countrymen, who did not pradife it for any
*' oblique reafon, but purely for the fake of
" being witty. " Spedator, No. 412. " We no
" where meet with a more glorious and pleafing
" fhow in nature , than what appears in the
*'■ heavens at the rifmg and fetting of the fun,
" -vphich is wholly made up of thefe different
** flains of light, that fiiow themfelves in clouds
*' of a different- fituatiou. " Which is here de«
fignfed to conned with the Word sho'w , as its
antecedent; but it ffcands fo wide from it, that
without a careful attention to the fenfe , wc
would be naturally led , by the rules of fyntax,
to refer it to the rifmg and fetting of the fun,
or to the fun itfelf; and, hence, an indifbindnd's
is thrown over the whole Sentence. The follow-
ing paffage in Billiop Sherlock's Sermons (Vol,
II. Serm. 15.) is ftill more cenfarable : "It is'
" folly to pretend to arm ourfelves againft the
" accidents of life , by heaping up treafures,
" which nothing can proted us againft, but the
" good providence qf our Heavenly Farjier. '
Which J always refers gramm.itically to the mi-

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 243

mediately preceding fubftantive, which here is, L e c t,
*' treafiires;" and this would make nonfenfe ot XI,
the wholo Period. Every one feels this impro-
priety. The Sentence ought to have ftood thus;
*' It is folly to pretend, by heaping up treafures,
"' to arm ourfelves againfl the accidents of life,
^"^ which nothing can protccl us againfl but the
^' good providence of our Heavenly Father.''

Of the like nature is the following inaccu-
racy of Dean Swift's. He is recommending to
youn^g clergymen , to write their fermons fully
and diftindly " Many," %s he, "ad fo di-
" redly contrary to this method, that, from a
*' habit of faving time and paper , which they
" acquired at the univerfity , they write in fo
" diminutive a manner , that they can hardly
*' read what they have written. " He certainly
does not mean, that they had acquired time and
paper at the univerfity, but that they had ac'
quired this habit there ; and therefore his words
ought to have run thus ; " from a habit which
" they have acquired at the univerfity of faving
" time and paper , they write in fo diminutive
" a manner. " In another paffage , the fame
author has left his meaning altogether uncer-
tain, by raifplacing a relative. It is in the con- ^

clufion of his letter to a member of parliament,
concerning the Sacramental Teft : " Thus I have
fairly given you, Sir, my own opinion, as
well as that of a great majority of both
houfes here, relating to this weighty affair;
" upon which I am confident you may fecurely

R -2,

«44 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

I. E c T. " reckon. '' Now I afk , -what it is he would
XI. iiave his correfpondent to reckon upon, fecurely ?
The natural conftrudlion leads to thefe words,
" this weighty affair." But, as it would be
difficult to make any fenfe of this, it is more
probable he meant that the majority of both
iioufes might be fecurely reckoned upon ; though
certainly this meaning, as the words are arranged,
is obfcurely exprefTed. The fentence would be
amended by arranging it thus: " Thus, Sir, I
" have given you my awn opinion, relating to
*' -this Vi^eighty affair , as well as that of a great
" majority of both houfes here ; upon which I
" am confident you may fecurely reckon. "

Several other inftances might be given ; but I
reckon thofe which I have produced fufficient to
make the rule underflood ; that , in the con-
ftrudion of fentences, one of the firft things to
be attended to, is, the marllialiing of the words
in fuch order as fhall moft clearly mark the re-
lation of the feveral parts of the fentence to one
another; particularly, that adverbs flhall always
foe made to adhere clofely to the words which
they are intended to qualify ; that , where a cir-
cumftance is thrown in, it fliall never hang loofe
in the midfl of a period , but be determined by
its place to one or other member of it; and
that every relative word which is ufed , lliali
. jnftantly prefent its antecedent to the mind of
^he reader, without the leaft obfcurity. I have
ir.eiitioned thefe three cafes ^ becaufe I tliink

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 245 '

they are the moft frequent occafions of ambi- L is c t
guity creeping into fentences. ' si XL

With regard to Relatives , I muffc farther
obferve, that obfcurity often arifes from the too
frequent repetition of them , particularly of the
pronouns tp/eo , and they , and them , and theirs ,
when we have occafion to refer to different
perfons; as , in the follov/ing fentence of arch-
bifbop Tillotfon (vol. I. ferm. 42.) : " Men look
*' with.- an evil eye upon the good that is in
" others; and think that their reputation obfcur-
" es them , and their commendable qualities
" ftand in their light ; and therefore they do
" what they can to cafb a cloud over them , tha'd
*' the bright fiiining of their virtues may not)
*' obfcure them. " This is altogether carelefs
writing. It renders ftyle often obfcure , always
embarralTed and inelegant. When we find thefe
perfonal pronouns crowding too faft upon ns,
we have often no method left ^ but to throw
the whole fentence into fome other form. , which
may avoid thofe frequent references to perfons
who have before been mentioned.

All languages are liable to ambiguities.-
Quindiiian gives us fome inflances in the Latin,
apfmg from faulty arrangement. A man , he
tells us , ordered , by his will , to have ereded
for him, after his death, " Statuam auream ha-
*' ftam tenentem ;" upon vvdiich arofe a difpute at law^
whether the whole ffcatue, or the fpear onlyj.
was to be of gold? The fame author obferves,
very properly, that a fentence is always faultj/j^

1^ 3

246 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. when tlie collocation of the words is ambiguoii?,
XL though the fenfe can be gathered. If any one
iliculd fay , " Chremetem audivi percuffiffe De-
" meam," this is ambiguous both in fenfe and
ftrudlure , whether Chremes or Demea ga\ -2
the blow. But if this expreffion were uftd,
"" Se vidiffe hominem librum fcribentem, " al-
though the meaning be clear, yet Quinc^ilnm
infills that the arrangement is wrong. " Nam,"
fays he , " etiamfi librum ab homine fcribi pa-
" teat, non certe hominem a libro , male taraen
" compofuerat, feceratque ambiguum quantum
" in ipfo fuit. " Indeed , to have the relation,
of every word and member of a fentence mark-
ed in the moft proper and diftind manner, gives
not ckarnefs only , but grace and beauty to a
fentence, making the mind pafs fmoothiy and
agreeably along all the parts of it.

I PROCEED now to the fecond quality of a
well-arranged fentence, which I termed its Unity.
This is a capital property. In every compofitlon,
of whatever kind, forae degree of Unity is
required, in order to render it beautiful. There
mufi be always fome conned;ing principle among
the parts. Some one objed muR reign and be
predominant. This, as I (liall hereafter fliow ,
holds in Hiftory, in Epic and Dramatic Poetry,
and in all oration?. But moft of all , in a fii),<z:le
fentence, is required the ftrideft Unity, for
the very nature of a fentence implies one propo-
fition to be e^prefted. It moy confjfl: of p^rts ,
ind,ecdi- but thcfe parts muiX be lo clolVly

I STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. %^7

bound together, as to make the impreffion upon L s c t.
the mind , of one objed;, not of many. Now, XL
in order to pieferve this Unity of a fentence,
the foWowing rules muft be obferved ;

In the firft place , during the courfe of the
fentence , the fcene fhould be changed as little as
pofTible, We fhould not be hurried by fudden
tranfitions from perfon to perfon, nor from fubjedl
to fabjecl:. There is commonly, in every fentence,
fome perfon or thing, which is the governing
word. This ihould be continued fo, if poffible,
from the beginning to the end of it. Should I
exprefs myfelf thus : " After we came to anchor,
j;, they put me on fliore , where I was welcomed
5, by all my friends , who received me with
J, the greateft kindnefs." In this fentence, though
the objeds contained in it have a fufficient
connecT:ion with each other, yet, by this manner
of reprefenting them , by ilTifting fo often both
the place and the perfon, -rpe, and they ^ and
J, and -vcho ^ they appear in fuch a difunited
viev/ , that the fenfe of connection is almoft lofr.
The fentence is reftored to its proper unity, by
turning it after the following manner : " Having
„ come to an anchor, I was put on ihore, where
55 I was welcomed by ail my friends, and re-
„ ceived with the greateft kindnefs." Writers
who tranfgrefs this rule , for the moft part tranf-
grefs , at the fame time ,

A SECOND rule ; never to crowd into one
fentence , things which have fo little connedion,
that they could bear to be divided into two or

R 4

248 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. three fentences. The violation of this rule never
XL fails to hurt, and difpleafe a reader. ]ts eifed,
indeed, is fo bad, that, of the two, it is the
fafeft extreme , to err rather by too many fhort
fentences, than by one that is overloaded and
cmbarrafled. Examples abound in authors. I
fliall produce fome, to juftify what I now fay.
" Archbiihop Tillotfon ," fays an Author of the
Hiflory of England, " died in this year. He
33 was exceedingly beloved both by King Willi-
35 am and Queen Mary, who nominated Dr.
M Tennifon, Bifliop of Lincoln, to fucceed him."
Who would exped the latter part of this
fentence to follow, in confequence of the former?
" He was exceedingly beloved by both King
35 and Queen ," is the propofition of the fentence :
\ve look for fome proof of this , or at leaft
fomething related to it, to follow; when we
are on a fudden carried off to a new propofition,
" who nominated Dr. Tennifon to fucceed him."
The following is from Middleton's Life of
Cicero: " Li this uneafy Pcate, both of his
33. public and private life, Cicero was oppreffed
3) by a new and cruel afHiclion, the death of
35 his beloved daughter Tullia; which happened
35 foon after her divorce from Dolabella ; whofe
33 manners and humours were entirely disagreeable
35 to her." The principal objecT; in this fentence
is, the death of Tullia, which was the caufe
of her father's affiidion ; the date of it, as
happening foon after her divorce from Dolabella,
may enter into the fentence with propriety; but

I STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 249

the fubjundion of Dolabella's cbarader is foreign L e c T.
to the main objed;; and breaks the unity and XL
compadnefs of the fentence totally , by fetting
a new pidure before the reader. The following
fentence , from a tranflation of Plutarch , is ftill
worfe : " Their march," fays the Author, fpeak-
ing of the Greeks under Alexander , " their
" march was through an uncultivated country,
55 whofe favage inhabitants fared hardly, having
,5 no other riches than a breed of lean fhecp ,
35 whofe fllefh was rank and unfavoury, by reafon
35 of their continual feeding upon fea-fifh." Here
the fcene is changed upon us again and again.
The march of the Greeks , the defcription of
the inhabitants through whofe country they
travelled, the account of their flieep, and the
caufe of their fheep being ill-tafled food, form a
jumble of objeds, flightly related to each other,
which the reader cannot, without much difficulty,
comprehend under one view.

These examples have been taken from fen-
tences of no great length , yet over-crowded.
Authors who deal in long fentences , are very
apt to be faulty in this article. One need only
open Lord Clarendon's Hiflory , to find exam-
ples every where. The long , involved , and
intricate fenteuces of that Author, are the greateft
blemifli of his compofition; though, in other
refpeds, as a Hiftorian , he has confiderable me-
rit. In later, and more corred v/riters than Lord
Clarendon , we find a period fometimes running
out fo far, and comprehending fo many particu-

25'^ STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. lars , as to be more properly a difcourfe than a
XI. fentence. Take , for an inflance , the followhig
from Sir William Temple , in his EfTay upon
Poetry ; " The ufual acceptation takes Profit and
" Pleafure for two diiferent things; and not only
" calls the followers or votaries of them by the
" feveral names of Bufy and Idle Men ; but dif-
" tingiiiihes the faculties of the mind , that are
" converfant about them, calling the operations
^' of the firft, Wifdom; and of the other, V/it ;
^^ which is a Saxon word , ufed to exprefs what
" the Spaniards and Italians cnW Injjcnio , and the
" French, Efprit , both from the Latin; though
" I think Wit more particularly fignifies that of
'' Poetry, as may occur in Remarks on the Runic
" Language." When one arrives at the end of
fuch a puzzled fentence, he is furprifed to find
himfelf got to fo great a diftance from the objedl
with which he at firft fet out.

Lord Shaftsbury, often betrayed into faults
by his love of magnificence, fliall afford us the
next example. It is in his Rhapfody, where he
is defcribing the cold regions: ** At length," fays
he, "the Sun approaching, melts the fnow, fets
" longing menat liberty , and affords them means
"and time to make provifion againfb the next
" return of Cold. " This firfl fentence is corred:
enough ; but he goes on : " It breaks the icy fet-
" ters of the main, where vaft fea-monfters pierce
" through floating iflands, with arms which can
" withltand the cryftal rock; whilft others, who
" ofthemfelves feem great as iOands , are by their

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 251

" - bulk alone armed againfl: all but Man , whofe L e c t.
" fuperiority over creatures of fuchftupendousfize XI,
" and force, fhould make him mindful of his privi-
" lege of Reafon , and force him humbly to adore
" the great Compofer of thefe wondrous frames,
" and the Author of his own fuperior wifdom. "
Nothing can be more unhappy or embarraffed
than this fentence; the worfe too, as it is intended
to be defcriptive , where every thing fhould be
clear. It forms no diftindt image whatever. The
It^ at the beginning, is ambiguous, whether it
mean the Sun or the Cold. The objecl is changed
three times in the fentence ; beginning with the
Sun, which breaks the icy fetters of the main;
then the Sea-moniters become the principal perfona-
ges ; and laftly , by a very unexpeded tranfition ,
Man is brought into view , and receives a long
andferious admonition before the fentence clofes.
I do not at prefent inuft on the impropriety of
fuch expreflions as , God's being the Compofer of
Frames ,• and the Sea-monfters having arms that
luithjland rocks. Shaftfoury's flrength lay in reafon-
ing and fentiment , more than in defcription ;
however much his defcriptions have been fome-
times admired.

I SHALL only give one inllance more on this
head, from Dean Swift; in hispropofal, too , for
correcling the Englifh Language : where, in place
oi a fentence , he has given a loofe dilTertation
upon feveral fubjecls. Sp"eaking of the progrefs
of our language , after the time of Cromwell :
" To this fucceeded," fays he, " that hcentiouf-

II

2SZ STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES,

L E c T. " nefs , which entered with the Reftoration , ancT,
XI. " from inteding our religion and morals , fell ta
« corrupt our langiage; which lafl was not like
" to be much improved by thole , who at that
" time made up the court of King Charles the
" Second ; either fuch as had followed him in
" his banifliment , or who had been altogether
" converfant in the dialed; of thefe fanatic times ;
" or young men , who had been educated in the
" fame country: fo that the Court, which ufed
" to be the ftandard of corrednefs and propriety
*' of fpeech, was then, and I think has ever fmce
" continued, the worft fchool in England for that
" accomplifhment ; and fo will remain , till better
*' care be taken in the education of our nobility,
" that they may fet out into the world with
*' fome foundation of literature, in order to qualify
*' them for patterns of politenefs: " How many
different fads , reafonings , and obfervations , are
here prefented to the mind at once ! and yet fo;
linked together by the Author, that they all make
parts of a fentence , which admits of no greater
divifion in pointing, than a femicoion between'
any of its members? Having mentioned pointing,
I fhall here take notice , that it is in ♦vain to pro-
pofe , by arbitrary punduation , to amend the
defeds of a Sentence, to corred its ambiguity,
or to prevent its confufion. For commas, colons,
and points , do not make the proper divifions of
thought J but only fetve to mark thofe which
arife from the tenor of the Author's expreilion :
and therefore , they are proper or not, juft ac^

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 253

cording as they correfpond to the natural <livirioiis L e c t.
of the fenfe. When they are inferted in wrong XI.
places , they' dcferve , and will meet with , no
regard.

I Proceed to a third rule, for prefervlng the
Unity of Sentences; which is, to keep clear of
all Parenthefes in the middle of them. On fome
occafions , thefe may have a.fpirited appearance;
as prompted by a certain vivacity of thought.,
which can glance happily afidc ,. as it is going
along. But, for the moft part , their iefFecT: is
extremely bad; being a fort of wheels withia
wheels ; fentences in the m.idft of fentences ; the
perplexed method of difpofing of fome thought,
•which a writer wants art to introduce in its proper
place. It were needlefs to give many inftatices^
as they occur fo often among incorredl writers.
I fhall produce one from Lord Bolingbroke,
the rapidity- of whofe genius , and manner c^£
writing, betrays him frequently into inaccuracies
of this fort. It is in the Introduction, to his Idea
of a Patriot King , where he writes thus : " It
" feems to me , that , in order to maintain the
■*' fyftem of the world 3 at a certain point, far
" below that of ideal perfedion (for we are made
" capable of conceiving what we are incapable of
" attaining ) , but however , fufficient , upon the
" whole, to conftitute a ftate eafy and happy ,
" or at the word, tolerable; I fay, it feems to
" me, that the Author of Nature has thought
" fit to mingle, from time to time, among the
^-' focieties of men,, a. few , and but a fe^y, of

254 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. " tliofe on wliom he is gracioufly pleafed to be-
XI. *' ftow a larger portion of the Ethereal Spirit,
" than is given, in the ordinary courfe of his
*' government, to the fons of men. " A very bad
Sentence this ; into which , by the help of a Par-
enthefis, and other interjected circiimftances , his
Lordfliip had contrived to thruft fo many things,
that he is forced to. begin the conftrudion again
with the phrafe Ifay^ which , whenever it occurs,
may be always affumed as a fwre mark of a clumfy
ill - conftruded Sentence; exculiible in fpeaking,
where the greateft accuracy is not expe<fled, but
■in poliflied writing, unpardonable.

I SHALL add only one rule more for the Unity
of a Sentence , which is , to bring it always to
a full and perfed: clofe. Every thing that is one,
fhould have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
I need not take notice , that an unfiniflied Sen-
tence is no Sentence at all , according to any
grammatical rule. But very often we meet with
Sentences that are , fo to fpeak , more than
finifiaed. When we have arrived at what we
expelled was to be the conclufion , when we
have come to the word on which the mind
is naturally led , by what v/ent before, to reft;
unexpededly, fome circumftance pops out, wLtch
ought to have been omitted , or to have been
difpofed of ell'ewhere ; but which is left lagging
behind , like a tail adjeded to the Sentence ;
fomev/hat that , as Mr. Pope defcribes the
Alexandrine line.

" Like a wounded fnake , .drugs its flow length along. "

I*

STRUCTURE OF^ SENTENCES. s^^

All tliefe adjedions to tlie propef clofe, clis- L e c t=
figure a Sentence extremely. They give it a lame , XL
ungi'aceful air, and, in particular, tliey break
its Unity. Dean Swift, for inftance , in his Letter
to a Young Clergyman , fpeaking of Cicero's
Writings, exprefTes himfelf thus : *' With thefe
5, writings, yoUng divines are more converfant,
3, than with thole of Demofthenes , who j by
„ many degrees, excelled the other; atleaft, as
„ an orator. " Here the natural clofe of the Sen-
tence is at thefe Avords , *' excelled the Other. "
Thefe words conclude the propofition ; we look
for no more; and the circumftance added, " at
5, leaft , as an orator , " comes in with a very
halting pace. How much more compadl would
the Sentence have been , if turned thus : '' With
5, thefe writings , young divines are more con-
„ verfant , than with thofe of Demofthenes,
,, who , by many degrees , as an orator at leaft,
^, excelled the other. " In the following Sentence,
from Sir William Temple , the adjedion to the
Sentence is altogether foreign to it. Speaking of
Burnet's Theory of the Earth , and Fontenelle's
Plurality of Worlds , '* The firft , " fays he ,
*' could not end his learned treatife , without a
,, panegyric of modern learning , in comparifon
3, of the ancient; and the other , falls fo groisly
J, into the cenfure of the old poetry, and pre-
,, ference of the new , that I could not read
3, either of thefe ftrains without fome indigna-
3, tion; v/hich no quality among men is fo apt

2^6 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES, ,

L E c T. ,, to raife in me as felf - fufficiency. '' The word

XI. " indignation," concluded the Sentence; the laft

member , which no quahty among men is fo apt

i» to raife in me as felf- fufficiency, " is a propofi-

tion altogether new > added after the proper

clofe.

LEG-

LECTURE XII,

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCBS-.

.Having treated of Perfpiculty and Unity, a? L e c T^
neceiTat-y to be ftudied In the Strudure of Senten- XIL
ces , I proceed to the third qnality of a corred Sen-
tence, which I termed Strength. By this, I mean,
fuch a difpofition of the feveral words arid
liiembei-s, as fliall bring out the fenfe to the beft
advantage ; as fhall render the impreffion , which
the Period is defigned to make , moll full and
complete j and give every V/ord , and every
member , its due weight and force. The tw5
former qualities of Perfpicuity arid Unity, are ,
iio doubt , abfolutely necelTary to the prodiididh
of this efFfed ; but rhore is ftill reqiiifite. For a
Sentence may be clear enough ; it may ajfo be
compad enough , in all its parts , or have the
requifite Unity ; and yet , by fome unfavourable
circumflance in the ftrudure , it may fail in that
flirength or livelinefs of irspreffiori , which a
more happy arrangement would have prodneed.

The iirft rule which I fhall give, for promot-
ing the Strength of a Sentence , is , to prune ife

Vol. I. S

253 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. of all redundant words. Thefe may , fomedmes ,

XII. be confiftent with a confiderable degree both of

'Clearnefs and Unity j but they are always

enfeebling. They make the Sentence move along

tardy and encumbered ■;

Eft brevitate opus , vit currat fententia , neu fe
Impediat verbis , lalTas onerantibus aures *.

It is a general maxim , that any words , which
do not add fome importance to the meaning of
a Sentence , always fpoil it. They cannot be
fuperfluous, without being hurtful. "Obftat,"
. fays Quindilian , " quicquid non adjuvat. " All
that can be eafily fuppHed in the mind, is better,
left out in the expreffion. Thus : " Content
,, with deferving a triumph, he refufed the ho-
„ nour of it , " is better Language than to £iy ,
„ Being content with deferving a triumph , he
. „ refufed the honour of it." I confider it, there-
fore , as one of the moft ufeful exercifes of cor-
recl;ion , upon reviewing what we have written
or compofed , to contract that round-about
method of exprefTion , and to lop off thofe ufelefs
excrefcences which are commonly found in a firft
draught. Here a fevere eye Ihould be employed ;
and we fliall always find our Sentences acquire
more vigour and energy wheii thus retrenched ;
provided always , that we run not into the ex-

* " Concife your didllon , let your fciife be clear ,
" Nor , with a weight of words , fatigue the ear.

Francis.

STPs^UCTURE OF SENTENCES. 259

treme of pruning fo very clofe , as to give a Leu t.
hardnefs and drynefs to [iyle. For here, as in ail XII.
other things , there is a due medium. Some re-
gard, though not the principal , muft be had to
fuhiefs and fweliing of found. Some leaves muft
be Jeft to ffielter and furround the fruit.

As Sentences fhould be cleared of redundant
words, fo alfo of redundant members. As every
word ought to prefent a new idea , fo every mem-
ber ought to contain a new thought. Oppofed to
this , {lands the fault we fometimes meet wilh ,
of the laft member of a period , being no other
than the echo of the former, or the repetition
of it in fomewhat a different form. For example;
fpeaking of Beauty, " The very firft difcovery
„ of it , " fays Mr. Addifon, " flrikes the mind
„ with inward joy , and fpreads delight through
,, all its faculties." ( No. 412 ) And elfewhere ,
J, It is impoffible for us to behold the divine
„ v/orks with coldnefs or indifference , or to furvey
„ fo many beauties , without a fecret fatisfadion
„ and complacency." (No. 413) In both thefe
inftances , little or nothing is added by the
fecond member of the Sentence to v/hat was
already exprelTed in the firft : And though the ^-.
free and fio,vfing r^ianner of fuch an author as
Mr. Addifon , and the graceful harmony of his
period, may palliate fuch negligences; yet, in
general, it holds, that ftyle , freed from this pro-
lixity, appears both more ftrong , and more
beautiful. The attention becomes remifs , the
mind falls into inadion, when words are mul-

S z

26o STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. tiplied without a correfponding multiplication of
XIL ideas.

After removing fuperfluities , the fecond
diredio . 1 give, for promoting the Strength of
a Sentence , is , to attend particularly to the ufe
of copulatives , relatives , and all the particles
employed for tranfition and conneclion. Thefe
little words , but, and, •vphich^ -whufc , -where, &c.
are frequently the moft important words of any;
they are the joints or hinges upon which all
Sentences turn , and , of courfe , much , both of
their gracefulnefs and llrength , muft depend
upon fuch particles. The varieties in ufing them
are, indeed, fo infinite, that no particular fyftem
of rules, refpecfling them, can be given. Atten-
tion to the practice of the moft accurate writers,
■joined with frequent trials of the different ef-
■ feels , produced by a different ufage of thofe
particles , muft here dired; us *, Some obferva-
tions, I (liall mention , which have occurred to
me as ufeful , without pretending to exhauft
the fubjed:.

What is called fplltting of particles, orfeparat-
ing a prepofition from the noun which it governs,
is always to be avoided. As if I fiiould fay,
" Though virtue borrows no afTiftance from , yet
35 it may often be accompanied by , the advan-
as>tages of fortune. " In fuch inftances , we feel a

* On this head, Dr. Lowtli^s. Short Introdudtion to
Englifh Grammar deferves to be confulted ; where feveral
niceties of the Language are well pointed out.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 261

fortofpain, from the revulfion, or violent feparation L e c t.
of two things,\vhich by theirnature,jGhouldbe clofely XII.
united. We are put to a ftandin thongbt; being
obliged to reft for a little on theprepofitionby itfelf,
which, at the fame time, carries no fignificancy ,
till it is joined to its proper fabftantive noun.

Some writers needleOy multiply demonftrative
and relative particles , by the frequent ufe of
fuch phrafeology as this : " There is nothing
35 which difgufts us fooner than the empty pomp
„ of Language." In introducing a fubjed , or
laying dovf n a propofition , to which we demand
particular attention , this fort of flyle is very
proper; but, in the ordinary current of difcourfe,
it is better to exprefs ourfelves more fimply and
ll)ortly : " Nothing difgufts us fbaner than the
J, empty pomp of Language. "

Other, writers make a pradice of omitting
the Relative , in a phrafe of a different kind
from the former, where they think the mieaning
can be underftood v/ithout it. As , " The man I
„ love. " — " The dominions we poffeffed , and
3, the conquefls we made. " But though this
elliptical Ryle. be intelligible, and is allowable
in converfation and epiftolary writing , yet , in all
writings of a ferious or dignified kind , it is
ungraceful. There , the Relative fliould alv/ays be
jnferted in its proper place , and the conftrudlion
filled up : " The man whom I love. " — " The
,, dominions which v/e poffeffed , and the con-
,, quefts which v/e made. "

With regard to the Copulative particle , andi

S 3

'z6z STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

E c T. which occurs fo frequently in all kinds of Corn-
ell, pofitio!! , feveral obfervations are to be made.
Einl, It is evident, that the unnecellary repetition
of it enfeebles flyle. It has the fame fort of
effecl as the frequent ufe of the vulgar phrafe ,
end fo , when one is telling a ftory in common
converfation. We fhall take a Sentence from Sir
Wilham Temple, for an inftance. He is fpeaking
of the rfefinement oF the French Language :
"■ The academy fet up by Cardinal Richelieu , to
55 amufe the v/its of that age and country, and
5, divert them from raking into his politics and.
3, miniftry , brought this into vogue ; and the
„ French wits have, for this laft age, been wholly
5, turned to the refinement of their Style and
„ Language ; ,and , indeed , Vv'lth fuch fuccefs,
„ that it can hardly be equalled , and runs
„ equally through their verfe and their profe. "
Here are no fewer than eight ands in one fentence.
This agreeable writer too often makes his fen-
tences drag in this manner , by a carekfs mul-
tiplication of Copulatives. It is flrange how a
writer , fo accurate as Dean Swift , fliould have
ftumbled on fo improper an application of this
particle , as he has made in the following fen-
tence ; Effay on the Fates of Clergymen. "" There
5, is no talent fo ufeful towards rifmg in the
„ world , or which puts men more out of the
3, reach of fortune , than that quality generally
„ poffef): by the duUcfl fort of people , and is,
3, in common language , called Difcretion ; a
(J, fpecies of lower prudence, by the afliflance oi

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 263

5, which , &c. " By the infertion of , and is , in L e c t.
place of, -which is ^ he has not only clogged the XIL
Sentence but even made it ungrammatical

But, in the next place , it is worthy of obferv-
ation , that though the natural ufe of the con=
jundion, and, be to join objedls together, and
thereby , as one would think , to make their con-
nexion more clofe ; yet , in fad; , by dropping
the conjundion , we often mark a clofer connec-
tion , a quicker fuccefTion of objeds , th^n when
it is inferted between them. Longinus makes this
remark ; which from many inftances , appears to
be juft : Veni, vidi , vici* ," expreffes with
more fpirit , the rapidity and quick fucceffion
of conqueft, than if conneding particles had been
nfed. So , in the following defcription of a ♦

rout in Caefar's Commentaries : " Noftri , emiffis
33 pilis, gladiis rem gerunt ; repente poft tergum
„ equitatus cernitur; cohortes alise appropinquant
„ Hoftes terga vertunt ; fugientibus cquites
5, occurrunt ; fit magna cxdes. " Bell. Gall. I. 7. f.

Hence, it follows, that when, on the other
hand , we feek to prevent a quick tranntion
from one objed to another , when we are mak-
ing fome enumeration , in which we wifh that the
objeds Ihoyld appear as diftind from each other

* " I came , I faw , I conquered."
t " Our men , after having difcharged their javelins ,
" attack with fv/ord in hand : of a fudden , the cavalry
" make their appearance behind ; other bodies of men are
" feen drawing near : the enemJes turn their backs ; the'
■' horfe meet them in their flight j a great Daughter enfues."

S 4

264 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L i: c T, as poflible , ^and that the mind fhould reft , for a
XII, moment, on each objed; by itfelf ; in this cafe ,
Copulatives may be rauklpHed with peculiar
advantage and grace. As when Lord Bolingbroke
fays, " Such a man might fall a vidim to power;
,„ but truth, and reafon, and Hberty , would fall
5, with him. " In the fame manner , Ct^far
defcribes an engagement with the Nervii : " His
5, equitibus facile pulhs ac perturbatis , ingredibili
,, celeritate ad flu men decurrerunt ; ut pene uno
}, tempore, et ad filvas , et in fiumine, et jam in
>, manibus noftris , hofles viderentur. '' Bell. Gall.
1. 2 *. Here , although he is defcribing a quick
fucceffion of events, yet, as it is his intention
to iliow in how many places the enemy feemed
to be at one time , the Copulative is very hap-
pily redoubled , in order to paint more ftrongly
the diftindlion of thefe feveral places.

This attention to the feveral cafes, when ft is
proper to omit, and when to redouble the Copu-
lative , is of confiderable importance to all who
ftudy eloquence. For, it is a remarkable parti-
cularity in Language , tliat the omiffion of a con-
necting particle fhould fometimes ferve to make
cbjedls appear more clofely connected ; and that
the repetition of it ftiould diftinguiOi and feparate
thenijin fomemeafure, from each oiher. Hence,

* " *rhe enemy , having eafjly beat off-, and fcattered

' " this body of horfe, ran down with incredible celerity

" to tlie river , fo that , almoft at one moment of time ,

*• they appeared to be in the woods, and in the river, and

" in the midft of oar troops-"

STRUCTUP.E OF SENTENCES. S65

tlae omiiTion of it is nfed to denote rapidity; L e c t,
and the repetition of it is defigned to retard and XII.
to aggravate. The reafon feems to be, that, in
the former cafe, the mind is fuppofed to be hur-
ried fo faft through a quick fucceffion of objedts,
that it has not leifure to point out their connec-
tion ; it drops the Copulatives in its hurry ; and
crowds the whole feries together , as if it v/ere
but one objedl. Whereas, when we enumerate,
with a view to aggravate , the mind is fuppofed
to proceed with a more Ilov/ and folemn pace ;
it marks fully the relation of each objedl to that
Vvdiich fucceeds it ; and , by joining them to-
gether with feveral Copulatives , makes you
attend , that the objeclis , though connected , are
yet, in therafelves, diftind ; that they are many,,
not one. Obferve , for inftance , in the following
enumeration , made by the Apoftle Paul , what
additional weight and diflincftnefs is given to
each particular, by the repetition of a conjundion.
^' I am perfuaded, that neither death , nor life,
„ nor angels , nor principalities , nor powers ,
,, nor things prefent, nor things to come , nor
5, height, nor depth, nor any other creature,
5, fhall be able to feparate us from the love of
„ God. " Rom. viii. 58 ? 39- So much with
regard to the ufe of Copulatives.

I PRoeEiiD to a third rule, for promoting the
flrength of a Sentence, which is to difpofe of
the capital w®rd , or words , in that place of
the Sentence , where they w^ill make the fulleft
impreffion. That fuch capital words there are in

.266 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. every Sentence , on which tlie meaning princl-
XII. pally refts , every one muft fee ; and that tbeie
words lliould poiTefs a confpicuous and diftin-
guiflied place , is equally plain. Indeed , that
place of the Sentence \vhere they will make the
beft figure, whether the beginning-', or the end,
or foraetimes , even the middle , cannot , as far
as I know , be afcertained by any precife rule.
This muft vary with the nature of the Sentence.
Perfpicuity muft ever be ftudied in the firft place;
and the nature of our Language allows no great
liberty in the choice of collocation. For the moft
part , with us , the important v/ords ^re placed
in the beginning of the Sentence. So Mr. Ad-
difon: " The plcafures of the imagination, taken
„ in their full extent, arc not fo grofs as thofe
53 of fenfe , nor fo refined as thofe of the under-
„ ftanding. " And this indeqd , feems the moft
plain and na.tural order , to place that in the
' front which is the chief objed of the propofition
we are laying dow^n. Sometimes, however, when
we intend to give weight to a Sentence , it is of
advantage to fufpend the meaning for a little,
and then bring it cut full at the clofe : " Thus,"
fays Mr. Pope , " on whatever fide we contem-
„ plate Homer, what principally ftrikes us, is,
3, his wonderful invention. " (Pref. to Homer.)

The Greek and Latin writers had a confider-
able advantage above us , in this part of Style.
By the great liberty of inverfion, which their
Languages permitted, they could chufe the moil

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 267

advantageous fituadon for every word; and had L e c t.
it thereby in their power to give their Sentences XIL
more force. Milton , in his profe works, and
feme other of our old Englilh writers, endeavour-
ed to imitate them in this. But the forced
conftrudions , which they employed , produced
obfcurity; and the genius of our Language , as
it is now written and fpoken , will not admit
fuch liberties. Mr. Gordon , who followed this
inverted ftyle in his TranOation of Tacitus , has,
fometimes , done fuch violence to the Language,
as even to appear ridiculous ; as in this expref-
fion : " Into this hole thruft themfelves three
5j Roman fenators " He has tranflated fo fimple a
phrafe as, " Nullum ea tempeflate bellum , " by,
^ War at that time there was none. " However ,
within certain bounds , and to a limited degree,
our Laneuas'e does admit of inverfions ; and
they are pradifed with fuccefs by the befb
writers. So Mr, Pope , fpeaking of Homer ,• " The
praife of judgment Virgil has juftly contefted
with him, but his invention remains yet unrival-
led." It is evident, that, in order to give the
Sentence its due force , by contrafting properly
the two capital words , "judgment and inven- '
" tion," this is a happier arrangement than if he
had followed the natural order , which was,
" Virgil has juRly contefted with him the praife
** of judgment , but his invention remains yet
** unrivalled."

Some writers pradllfe this degree of inverfion ,
which our Language bears - much more than

268 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. Others ; Lord Shaftiljury , for inftance , much
XIL more than Mr. Addifon ; and to this fort of arrange-
ment is owing , in a great meafiire , that ap-
pearance of ftrength , dignity , and varied hari^
mony , which Lord ShaftR^ury's fiyle pof-
feffes. This will appear from the following Sen-
tences of his Enquiry into Virtue; where all thp
words are placed, not ftridly in the natural order,
but with that artificial conftrudion, which may
give the period mofb emphafis and grace. He is
fpeaking of the mifery of vice : " This , as tq^
,, the complete immoral ftate, is, what of their
,, own accord , men readily remark. Where
„ there is this abfolute degeneracy , this total
5, apoftacy from all candor , truft, or equity, there
„ are few v/ho do not fee and acknowledge the^
,, mifery which is confequent. Seldom is the ca(e
,, mifconftrued, when at worft. The misfortune
5, is , that v/e look not on this depravity, nor
„ confider how it (lands , in lefs degrees. As if,
„ to be abfolutely immoral, were, indeed, the
„ greatefh mifery ; but , to be fo in a little degree,
„ fl:iould be no mifery or harm at all. Which ,
„ to allow , is juft as reafonable as to own , that,
„ 'tis the greateft ill of a body to be in the
„ utmoft manner maimed or diftorted; but that,
„ to lofe the ufe only of one limb , or to be
„ impaired in fome fmgle organ or member , is
„ no ill worthy the leaft notice. " ( Vol. ii. p. Sa.)
Here is no violence done to the Language , though
there are many inverfions. AU is flately , and.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 269

arranged with art ; which is the great charac- leg t,
teriftic of this author's Style. XII.

We need only open any page cf Mr. Addifon,
to fee quite a different order in the conftruclion
of Sentences. " Our fight is the mod perfed, and
moH: dehghtful of all- our fenfes. It fills the
mind with the largefl variety of ideas , converfes
with its objeds at the greatefl: diflance , and
continues the longeft in adion, without being
tired , or fatiated with its proper enjoyments.
The fenfe of feeling can , indeed , give us a
notion of extenfion , fliape , and ail other ideas
that enter at the eye, except colours; but, at
the fame time , it is very much ,flraitened and
confined in its operations," &c. ( Spedator,
No. 4ii.}In this ftrain , he always proceeds,
following the moft natural and obvious order
of the Language : and if, by this means, he has
lefs pomp and majefty than Shaftfbury , he has ,
in return, more nature , more eaie and ftmplicity;
which are beauties of a higher order.

But whether we pradife inverfion or not, and
in whatever part of the fentence we difpofe of
the capital v/ords, it is ahvays a point of great
moment, that thefe capital words fliall ftand clear
and difentangled from any other words that would
clog them. Thus , when there are any circum-
ftances of time , place , or other limitations ,
which the principal objed of our Sentence
requires to have conneded with it, we muft take
efpecial care to difpofe of them , fo as not to
cloud that principal objed, nor to bury it under

2'^o STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. a load of circumftances. This will be made
XII. clearer by an example, Obfervc the arranp-ement
of the following Sentence , in Lord Shaftfloury's
Advice to an Author. He is fpeaking of modern
poets, as compared with the ancient : 'Tf, whilffc
,, they profefs only to pleafe , they fecretly
„ advife , and give inflrud;ion , they may now,
„ perhaps, as v/ell as formerly, be eiieemed ,
„ with juRice , the beO; and mod honourable
,, among authors. " This is a well-conftruded
Sentence. It contains a great many circumflances-
and adverbs , neceUary to qualify the meaning ;
only , fecretly , as loell , perhaps , now , tuith jujiice ,
formerly ^ yet thefe are placed with fo much art,
as neither to" embarrafs , nor weaken the Sen-
tence ; while that which is the capital object in
it, viz. "Poets being juftly efleemed the bed and
,, "moft honourable among authors,'' comes out in
the conclufion clear and detached , and poffelTes
its 'proper place. See now , what Vv^ould have
been the effed; of a different arrangement. Sup-
pofe him to have placed the members of the
Sentence thus : " If, whilfl they profefs to pleafe
„ only, they advife and give inftrudion fecretly,
,, they may be eReemed the beft and moll ho-
„ nourable among authors , with juftice , per-
5, haps , now ; as well as formerly. " Here we have
precifely the fame words, and the fame fenfe;
but , by means of the circumftances being fo
intermingled as to clog the capital words , the
whole becomes perplexed, without grace, and
without Rrength.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 271 _

A FOURTH rule , for conPcruding Sentences L E c t.
with proper ftrength , is , to make the members XIL
of them go on rifing and growing in their im-
portance above one another. This fort of ar-^
rangement is called a Climax , and is always con-
fidered as a beauty in corapofition. From what
caufe it pleafes , is abunda.nt]y evident. In all
things, we naturally love to afcend to what is
more and more beautiful , rather than to follow
the retrograde order. Having had once fome
confiderable objed fet before us , it is , with
pain , we are pulled back to attend to an inferior
circumftance. " Cavendum eft, " faysQiiinclilian,
whofe authorlt}^ I always wilhngly quote , " ne
„ decrefcat oratio , & fortiori fubjungatur aliquid
„ infirmius ; ficut , facrilego , fur; autlatroni,
5j petulans. Augeri enim debent fententise & in-
j, furgere *. Of this beauty , in the conftrudtion
of Sentences , the orations of Cicero furnifh
many examples. His pompous manner naturally ,

led him to ftudy ft; and, generally, in order to
render the climax perfed,^ he makes both the fenfe
and the found rife together , with a very magni-
ficent fwelL So in his oratidn for TVlilo, fpeaking
of a defign of Clodius's for affaffinating Pompey :
" Atqui fi res , fi vir , fi tempus ullum dignum

* " Care muft be taken, that our compofition fliall
" not fall off, and that a weaker expreffion fhall not
" follow one of more ftrength ; as if, after facrilege , we
*' fhould bring in theft ; or, having mentioned a robbery,
" we fiiould fubjoin petulance. Sentences ought always
" to rife and grow,"

272 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES,

L E c T. J, fuit, certe hsec in ilia caufa fumma omnia fue-
XII. „ runt. Infidiator erat in Foro collocatiis , atque
„ in Veftibulo ipfo Senatiis ; ei viro autem mors
„ parabatur , cujus in vita nitebatur falus civita-
„ tis; eo porro reipublic3e tempore, quo fi unus
„ ille occidiffet , non hoec folum civitas , fed
„ gentes omnes concidifTent. " The following in-
ftance , from Lord Bolingbroke , is alfo beautiful:
" This decency , this grace , this propriety, of
5, manners to charader, is fo effential to princes
„ in particular, that, whenever it is negledled,
„ their virtues lofe a great degree of luflre ,
„ and their defects acquire much aggravation.
55 Nay more ; by negiedting this decency arid
33 this grace, and for want of a fufiicient regard
53 to appearances , even their virtues may betray
53 them into failings , their failings into vices ,
33 and their vices into habits unworthy of
„ princes , and unworthy of men." (Idea of a
Patriot King. )

I MUST obferve , however*, that this fort of
full and oratorial climax, can neither be always
obtained, nor ought to be always fought after.
Only fome kinds of writing admit fuch fen-
tences ; and , to jftudy them too frequently ,
efpecially j if the fubjed require not fo much
pomp , is afiedled and difagreeable. But there is
fomething approaching to a chmax, which it is
a general rule to ftudy , " ne decrefcat Oratio,"
as Quindlilian fpeaks, " etne fortiori fubjungatur
5, aliquid infirmius, " A weaker affertion or pro-
pofition fiiould never come after a flronger one;

*md

STRUCTUPvE OF SENTENCES. 273

and when our fentence confifts of two members, L e c T.

the longeft fliould , generally , be the concluding XII.

one. 1 here is a twofold reafon for this laR

direction. Periods, thus divided, are pronounced

more eafily ; and the fiiorteft member being

placed firft , we carry it more readily in our

memory as we proceed to the fecond , and fee

the connecflion of the two m.ore clearly. Thus ,

to fay, " when our paffions have forfaken us,

35 we flatter ourfelves with the belief that we

35 have forfaken them , " is both more graceful

and more clear, than to begin with the longefb

part of the propofition : " We flatter ourfelves

35 with the belief that we have forfaken our paf-

35 fions, when they have forfaken us." In general,

it is always agreeable to find a fentence rifmg

upon us , and growing in its importance to the

very laft word , when this conftrudion can be

managed without affedlation , or unfeafonable

pomp. "If we rife yet higher," fays Mr. Ad-

difon very beautifully , " and confider the fixed

" ftars as fo many oceans of flame , that are each

*' of them attended with a different fet of planets;

"and ftill difcover new firmaments and new

" lights, that are funk farther in thofe unfathom-

" able depths of aether ; w^e are loft in fuch a

" labyrinth of funs and worlds , and confounded

*' with the magnificence and immenfity of Nature"

(Sped. ISIo. 420). Hence follows clearly,

A FIFTH rule for the fi:rength of fentences •
which is , to avoid concluding them with an
adverb , a prepofition , or any inconfiderabie

Vol. I. X

274 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L !• c T. word. Such conciufions are always enfeebling
XIT. and degrading. There are fentences , indeed,
where the ftrefs and fignificancy reft chiefly upon
fome words of this kind. In this cafe , they are
not to be confidefed as cifcumftances , bufe as
the capital figures; and ought, in propriety, to
have the principal place allotted them. No fault,
for inftance , can be found with this fentence of
Eolingbroke's : *' In their profperity, my friends
5, fliall never hear of me ; in their advcrrity,al ways,"
Where never^ and al'waj/s, being emphatical words,
were to be fo placed, as tomake a ftrong impreffion.
But I fpealv now of thofe inferior parts of
fpeech, when introduced as circumftances , or as
qualifications of more important words. In fuch
cafe , they fliould always be difpofed of in the
leaft confpicuous parts of the period; and fo claf-
fed with other words of greater dignity , as to.
be kept in their proper fecondary ftation.

Agreeably to this rule , we fiiould always
avoid concluding with any of thofe particles ,
which mark the cafes of nouns, — of\ to ^ from ^
vpith^ by. For inftance , it is a great deal better
to fay, " Avarice is a crime of which wife men
35 are often guilty , " than to fay , " Avarice is a
55 crime which wife men are often guilty of."
This is a phrafeology which all corre(fl writers
iliun ; and with reafon. For , befides the want
of dignity which arifes from thofe monofyllables
at the end , the imagination cannot avoid refting,
for a little, on the import of the word which
dofc$ the fentence. A"'-^ j ^^^ thofe prepofitions

STRUCTUP.E OF SENTENCES. 275

have no import of their own , but only f:;rve to L e c t.
point out the relations of other words , it is dif- XII.
agreeable for the mind to be lelt paufmg on a
word, which does not, by itfelf . produce any
idea, nor form any pidure in the fancy.

For the fame reafon , verbs which are ufed in
a compound fenfe, with forae of thefe prepofi-
tions , are, though not fo bad, yet ftill not fo
beautiful conclufions of a period} fuch as, b'ing
about ^ lay hold of , come over to , clear up , -and
many others of this kind : inftead of which, if we
can employ a fimple verb , it always terminates
the fentence with more ftrength. Even the pro-
noun, It, though it has the import of a fub-
flantive noun , and indeed often forces itfelf upon
us unavoidably , yet , when we want to give
dignity to a fentence , fhould , if poffible , be
avoided in the conclufion ; more efpeciaily , when
it is joined with fome of the prepofitions , a=; ,
'vpith it, in it, to it. In the following fentence of
the Spedator , which otherwife is abundantly
noble , the bad effect of this clofe is fenfible :
" There is not, in my opinion, a morepleafing and
55 triumphant confideration in religion, than this,
,3 of the perpetual progrefs which the foul raakes
„ towards the perfedion of its nature , without
„ ever arriving at a period in it." (No. i;i.)
Howmuchmore graceful were the fente ice , if it
had been fo conflruded as to clofe with the word,
period !

Besides particles and pronouns, any phrafe,
>vhich expreffes a circumftance only , always

f 2

276 STRUCTUP.E OF SENTENCES.

L s c T. brines up the rear of a fentence with a bad
XII. grace. We may judge of this , by the following
■i^.?nu nee from Lord Bohngbroke ( Letter on the
State of Parties at the Acceffion of King George
L): "Let me therefore conclude by repeating,
_^, that divifion has caufed all the mifchief we
,, lament; that union alone can retrieve it; and
,, that a great advance towards this union , was
„ the coalition of parties , fo happily begun , fo
j: fuccefsfully carried on , and of late fo unac-
j, countably negledled ; to fay no worfe. " This
" laft phrafe , to fay no -worfe , occafio'ns a fad fal-
ling off at the end; fo much the more unhappy,
as the reft of the period is cOnduded after the
manner of a climax , which we' expedt to find
growing to the laft.

The proper difpofition of fuch circumflances
in a fentence, is often attended with confiderable
trouble , in order to adjuft them fo , as fhall
confift equally with the perfpicuity and the grace
of the period. 1 hough neceflary parts , they
are , however , like unlhapely flones in a build-
ing, which try the fkill of an artift, where to
place them with the lead offence. "Jungantur,"
fays C^uindilian, " quo congruunt maxime; ficut
5, in ftrudtura f:ixorum rudium , etiam ipfa enor-
„ m.itas invenit cui applicari , et in quo pofliE
„ infiflere *. '^

* " Let them beinferted wherever thehappieft place for
" them can be ftiund; as , in a ftrudure compofed of
';'' rough ftones , tliere are always places where the moft

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 277

The clofe is always an. unfuitable place for L e c Ti
them. When the fenfe admits it, the fooner they XII,
are difpatched , generally fpeaking, the better ;
that the more important and fi gniiicant word.s
may poUefs the lafl; place , quite difencumbered.
It is a rule , too , never to crowd too many cir-
cumflances together , but rather to interfperfc
them in different parts of the fentence, joined
with the capital words on which they depend ;
provided that care be taken , as I before dired-
ed , not to clog thofe capital words v/ith them.
For inftance, when Dean Swift fays, "What
„ I had the honour of mentioning to your
„ Lordlhip , fometime ago , in converfation ,
„ was not a new thought. " ( Letter to the Earl
of Oxford. ) Thefe two circumftances , fometime
ago , and in converfation , which are here put
together , would have had a better effedl dif-
joined , thus: "What I had the honour, forae-
„ time ago , of mentioning to your Lordiliip in
,, converfation. " And in the following fentence
of Lord Bolingbroke's ( Remarks on the Hiftory
of England ; ) "A monarchy , limited like ours ,
5, may be placed , for aught I know , as it has
„ been often reprefented , juft in the middle
,., point , from whence a deviation leads , on
,, the one hand , to tyranny : and on the other ,
5, to anarchy." The arrangement would have

" irregular and imfhapely may findfome adjacent one to ,
" which it can be joined , and fome bafis on which it
*' may reft."

T 3

278 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. been bappiei thus : " A monarchy, limited like
XII. „ cars , may , for aught T know , be placed , as
„ it has often been reprefented , juft in the
55 middle point, &c.

I SHALL give only one rule more, relating to
the ftrength of a fentence , which is, that in the
members of a fentence , wh. re two things are
compared or contrafted to one another ; where
either a refemhlance or an oppofition is intended
to be expreffed :. fome refemhlance , in the lan-
guage and confl;rucT;ion , fliould be preferved.
For when the things themfelves correfpond to
each other , we naturally expecfl to hnd the
words correfponding too. We arc difappo.inted
when it is otherwife ; and the comparifon , or
contrafl: , appears more imperfeifl. Thus , when
Lord Bolingbroke fays, " The laughers will be
„ for thofe who have moft wit ; the ferious part
„ of mankind ., for thofe who have moil reafon,
„ on their fide;" (Differt. on Parties, Pref, ) the
oppofition would have been more complete , if
he had faid , " The laughers will be for thofe
,, who have moft wit ; the ferious, for thofe
,, who have moft reafon on their fide. " 1 he fol-
lowing paflage from Mr. Pope's Preface to his
Homer , fully exemplifies the rule 1 am now
giving: " Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil,
„ the better artift : in the one , we mofb admire
,. the man , in the other, the work. Homer
„ hurries us with a commanding irapetuofity :
,, Virgil leads us with an attractive majeffcy.
3, Homer fcatters with a generous profufion j

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. -2,79

„ Virgil beftows with a careful magnificence. L e c T,

3, Homer , like the Nile , pours out his riches XIL

5, with a fudden overflow ; Virgil , like a river

35 in its banks , with a conftant ftream. — And

5, when we look upon their machines , Homer

35 feems like his own Jupiter in his terrors , fliak-

5, ing Olympus, fcattering the lightnings , and

5, firing the heavens ; Virgil , like the fame

5, Power, in his benevolence, counfelling with

35 the gods, laying plans for empires, and order-

35 ing his whole creation. " — Periods thus con-

flruded , when introduced with propriety , and

not returning too often , have a fenfible beauty.

But we mufli beware of carrying our attention

to this beauty too far. It ought only to be occa-

fionally ftudied , when comparifon or oppofitioii

of objects naturally leads to it. if fuch a con^

ftrucflion as this be aimed at in all our fentences,

it betrays into a difagreeable uniformity ; produces

a regularly returning clink in the period , which

tires the ear ; and plainly difcovers affectation.

Among the ancients , the ftyle of Ifocrates is

faulty in this refped;; and, on that account, by

fome of their beft critics , particularly by

Dionyfius of Halicarnafliis , he is feveiely czn-

fured.

This finillies what I had to fay concerning
Sentences , confidered , with refpedt to their
meaning. , under the three heads of Perfpicuity ,
Unity , and Strength. It is a fubjed; on which I
have infifted fully , for two reafons : Firfl becaufe
it is a fubjed: , which , by its nature , can be

T4

280 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. rendered more didadlic , and fubjeded more to
XII. precife rule , than many other fubjcds of cri-
ticifm ; and next, becaufe it appears to me of
confiderable importance and ufe.

For, though many of thofe attentions, which
s J have been recommending, may appear minute,

jet their efFedl, upon writing and ftyle, is much
greater than might, at firft, be imagined. A fen-
timent which is exprefifed in a period, clearly,
neatly , and happily arranged , makes always a
ftronger impreffion on the mind , than one that
is any how feeble or embarraffed. Every one
feels this upon a comparifon : and if the eSect
be fenfible in one fentence , how much more in
a whole difcourfe , or compofition , that is made
up of fuch Sentences ?

The fundamental rule of the conflrudion of
Sentences, and into which all others miffht be
refolved, undoubtedly is, to communicate , in
the cleareft and moft natural order , the ideas
which we mean to transfufe into the minds of
others. Every arrangement that does mofbjuftice
to the fenfe, and expreffes it to mofl advantage,
ftrikes us as beautiful. To this point have tend-
ed all the rules I have given. And, indeed, did
men always think clearly , and were they , at
the fame time , fully mafters of the Language in
which they write, there would be occafion for
few rules. Their Sentences would then ,
of courfe , acquire all thofe properties of Precifion,
Unity , and Strength which I have recommended.
For we may reft affured , that , whenever we

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 281

cxprefs ourfelves ill , there is , befides the mif- L e c T.
management of Language , for the raoft part , XIL
fome miftake in our manner of conceiving the
fubjed. Embarraffed , obfcure , and feeble Sen-
tences, are generally , if not always, the refult
of embarraffed , obfcure , and feeble thought.
Thought and Language ad and re-ad upon
each other mutually. Logic and Rhetoric have
here, as in many other cafes, a flrid connedion;
and he that is learning to arrange his fentences
with accuracy and order , is learning , at the
fame time , to think with accuracy and order ;
an obfervation which alone will jufbify all the
care and attention we have beftowed on this
fubjed.

LECTURE XI L

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.-^
HARMONY.

L E c T. Hitherto we have confidered Sentence:? ,
'■' with refped to their meaning, under the heads
of Perfpicuity, Unity, and Strength. We are
now to confider them , with refped: to their
found, their harmony, or agreeablenefs to the
ear ; which was the lafb quahty belonging tc^
them that I propofed to treat of,

Sound is a quality much inferior to fenfe ;
yet fuch as muft not be difregarded. For , as
long as founds are the vehicle of conveyance
for our ideas, there will be always a very con-
fiderable connedion between the idea which is
conveyed , and the nature of the found which
conveys it. Pleafing ideas can hardly be tranf-
mitted to the mind, by means of harili and dif-
agreeable founds. The imagination revolts as fooir
as it hears them uttered. "Nihil," fays Quincflilian,
"^ poteft intrare in affedum quod in aure , velut
*' quodam veflibulo, ftatim ofiendit*." Mufic h^
naturally a great power over all men to prompt

* " Nothing can enter into the afFeclions which itumbles
*' at the threfhold , by offending the ear."

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 2S3

and facilitate certain emotions: inlbmucli , that L e c t.
there are hardly any difpofitions which we wifli XIIL
to raife in others, but certain founds may be
found concordant to thofe difpofitions, and
tending to promote them. Now , Language can ,
in fome degree, be rendered capable of this
power of raufic ; a circumftance which muft
ileeds heighten our idea of Language as a won-
derful invention. Not content with fimply in-
terpreting our ideas to others , it can give them
thofe ideas enforced by correfoonding founds ;
and to the pleafure of communicated thought,
can add the new and feparate pleafure of melody.

In the Harmony of Periods , two things may
be confidered. Firfl; , Agreeable found , or mo-
dulation in general, without any particular ex-
preffion : Next, The found fo ordered, as to
become expreffive of the fenfe. The firfl is the
more common; thefecond, the higher beauty.

First, Let us confider agreeable found, in
general , as the property of a weli-conftruded
Sentence : and , as it was of profe - Sentences we
have hitherto treated, we fhall confine ourfelves
to them under this head. This beauty of mufical
conftrudlion in profe , it is plain will depend
upon two things; the choice of words, and the
arrangement of them.

I BEGIN w^ith the choice of words; on which
head, there is not much to be faid, unlefs I
w^ere to defcend into a tedious and frivolous
detail concerning the powers of the feveral
letters, or fimple founds, of \yhich fpeech is

284 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T, compofed. It is evident , that words are mofl
XIIL agreeable to the ear which are compofed of
fmooth and liquid founds, where there is a proper
intermixture of vowels and confonants ; without
too many harlh confonants rubbing againft each
other; or too many open vowels in fucceffion ,
. to caufe a hiatus , or difagreeable aperture of
the mouth. It may always be affumed as a prin-
ciple , that , whatever founds are difficult in
pronunciation , are , in the fame proportion ,
harfh and painful to the ear. Vowels give foftnefs ;
confonants, ftrength to the found of words. The
inufic of Language requires a juft proportion of
both; and will be hurt, will be rendered either
grating or effeminate, by an excefs of either.
Long words are commonly more agreeable to
the ear than monofyllables. They pleafe it by
the compofition, or fucceffion of founds which
they prefent to it ; and , accordingly, the moft
mufical Languages abound moft in them. Among
words of any length , thofe are the moft mufical ,
which do not run wholly either upon long or
fhort fyllables, but are compofed of an inter-
mixture of them ; fuch as , repent ^ produce ,
velocity , celerity , independent , impetuojtty.

The next head, refpeding the Harmony
which refults from a proper arrangement of the
words and members of a period, is more com-
plex, and of greater nicety. For, let the words
themfelves be ever fo well chofen , and well
founding,' yet, if they be ill difpofed , the
mufic of the Sentence is utterly loft. In the

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 285

harmonious ftrudure and dlfpofition of periods , L e c t,

no writer whatever, ancient or modern, equals XIIL

Cicero. He had ftudied this with care ; and

was ,fond, perhaps to excefs , of what he calls,

the " Plena ac numerofa oratio." We need only

open his writings , to find inftances that will

render the effedl of mufical Language fenfible to

every ear. What , for example , can be more

full, round, and fwelling, than the following

fentence of the 4th Oration againft Catiline ?

" Cogitate quantis laboribus fundatum imperium,

" quanta virtute ftabilitam libertatem , quanta

55 Deorum benignitate audas exaggeratafque

55 fortunas , una nox p^ne delerit." In Englilh ,

we may take , for an inftance of a mufical

Sentence, the following from Milton, in his

Treatife on Education : " We fhall conduct you

35 to a hill-fide , laborious, indeed, at the firft

5j afcent; butelfe, fo fmooth, fo green, fo full

55 of goodly profpecSs , and melodious founds on

33 every fide, that the harp of Orpheus was not

,, more charming." Every thing in this fentence

confpires to promote the harmony. The words

are happily chofen ; full of liquids and foft

founds ; laborious , fmooth , green , goodly , melodious^

charming: and thefe words fo artfully arranged,

that , were we to alter the collocation of

any one of them, v/e fhould , prefently, be

fenfible of the melody fuffering. For, let us

cbferve , how finely the members of the period

fwell one above another. " So fmooth, fo green,

— " f o full of goodly profpeds ,—an4 tnelodious

•286 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T, " founds on every fide;" — till tlie ear, prepared
XIII. by this gradual rife, is conduced to that full
clofe on which it rcfts v/ith pleafure ; — *' that the
*' harp of Orpheus was not more charming.''
The ftructure of periods, then, being fufcep-
* tible of a melody very fenfible to the ear, our
next enquiry fliould bej How is this melodious
ftrudure formed, what are the principles of
it, and by what laws is it regulated ? And, upon
this fubjedl, were 1 to follow the ancient rhe- '
toricians , it would be cafy to give a great
Variety of rules. For here they have entered
into a minute and particular detail; more parti-
cular, indeed, than cAi any other head that
legards Language. They hold, that to profe as
well as to verfe, there belong certain numbers,
lefs ftrid; , indeed , yet fuch as can be afcertained
by rule. They go fo far as to fpecify the feet >
as they are called , that is , the fucceffion of
long and fliort fyllables, which fhould enter into
the different members of a Sentence, and to
fhow what the effedl of each of thefe will be.
Wherever they treat of the Strudure of Senten-
ces, it is always the mufic of them that makes
the principal objed:. Cicero and Quindilian are
full of this. The other qualities of Frecifion ,
Unity, and Strength, which we confider as of
chief importance , they handle {lightly; but ^v'hen
they come to the " junifura et nurncrus ," the
modulation arid harmony, there they are copious.
Dionyfius of Halicarnaffus , one of the moft
judicious' critics of antiquity, has \ynttcn a

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 28?

treatife on the Compoftion of -rvords in a Sentence , L e c T«

which is altogether confined to their muficai Xlll.

efFed;. He makes the excellency of a Sentence

to confift in four things; firft , in the fweetnefs

of fmgle founds; fecondly, in the compofition

of founds , that is , the numbers or feet ; thirdly,

in change or variety of found; and fourthly,

in found fuited to the fenfe. On all thefe points

he writes with great accuracy and refinement ;

and is very worthy of being confulted ; though,

'vvere one now to write a book on the Structure

of Sentences, we fhould exped: to find the fubjed;

treated of in a more cxtenfive manner..

In modern times , this whole fubjed; of the
mufical ftrudure of difcourfe , it is plain , has
been much lefs fludied ; and , indeed , for fe-
veral reafbns , can be much lefs fubjeded to
rule. The reafons , it will be neceffary to give ,
both to juftify my not following the trad of the
ancient rhetoricians tDn this fubjed, and to fhow
how it has come to pafs , that a part of compo-
fition, which once made fo confpicuous a figure ,
now draws much lefs attention.

In the firft place , the ancient Languages , I
mean the Greek and the Roman , were much
more fufceptible than ours, of the graces and the
powers of melody. The quantities of their fylla-
bles were more fixed and determined; their words
were longer, and more fonorous; their method o£
varying the terminations of nouns and verbs ,
both introduced a greater variety of liquid founds^
and freed them from that multiplicity of Vitth

288 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

I, E c T. auxiliary words which we are obliged to employ;
XIII. and , what is of the greateft confequence , the
inverfions which their Languages allowed, gave
them the power of placing their words in whatever
order was moft fuited to a mufical arrangement.
All thefe were great advantages which they '
enjoyed above us , for Harmony of Period.

In the next place, the Greeks and Romans,
the former efpecially , were , in truth , much more
mufical nations than we ; their genius was more
turned to delight in the melody of fpeech. Mufic
is known to have been a more extenfive art
among them than it is with us ; more univerfally
fludied, and applied to a greater variety of ob-
je<fls. Several learned men , particularly , the Abbe
du Bos , in his Refledions on Poetry and Paint-
ing, have clearly proved , that the theatrical com-
pofitions of the ancients, both their tragedies and
comedies, were fet to a kind of mufic Whence,
the modos fecit , and the Tibiis dcxtris et Jinijlris ,
prefixed to the editions of Terence's Plays. AH
fort of declamation and public fpeaking , was
carried on by them in a much more mufical tone
than it is among us. It approached to a kind of
chanting or recitative. Among the Athenians,
there was what was called the Nomic Melody;
or a particular meafure prefcribed to the public
officers , in which they were to promulgate the
laws to the people ; left by reading them with
improper tones , the laws might be expofed to
contempt. Among the Romans , there is a noted
ftory of C. Gracchus, when he was declaiming

in

HARMONY OF SENTENCEa 289

in public , having a mufician {landing at his back, t, e c
in order to give him the proper tones with a pipe or XliL
flute. Even wiien pronouncing thofe terrible
tribunitial^ harangues , by which he inflamed the
one half of the citizens of Rome againft the other,
this attention to the mufic of Speech was , in
thofe times , itfeems, thought necelTary to fuccefs*
Qiiind;ilian , though he condemns the excefs of
this fort of pronunciation , yet allows a " cantus
5, obfcurior " to be a beauty in a public fpeaker.
Hence, that variety of accents , acure , grave,
and circumflex , which we find marked upon the
Greek fyllables , to exprefs , not the quantity of
them , but the tone in which they were to be
fpoken : the application of which is now wholly
unknown to us. And though the Romans did not
mark thofe accents in their writing , yet it appears
from Ouinifliiian , thac they ufed them in pronun-
ciation: ^^ Quantum^ t/^^a/e , " fays he , " comparan*
*' tes gravi, interrogantes acuto tenore concludunt. "
As mufic then , was an object much more attended
to in Speech , among the Greeks and Romans ,
than itis with us; as, in all kinds of public fpeak-
ing, they employed a much greater variety of
notes , of tones , or inflexions of voice , than ws
ufe ; this is one clear reafon of their paying a
greater attention to that conftrudion of Sentences,
which might beft fuit this mufical pronunciation.

It is farther known , that , in confequence of
the genius of their Languages , and of their manner
of pronouncing them , the mufical arrangement
of Sentences , did , in fact , produce a greater

Vol, X V

ago HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. effedl in publick fpeaking among tliem t^jan
XIII. it could poflibly do in any modern oration;
another reafon why it deferved to be more flu-
died. Cicero , in his trcatife, intitled , Orator ^
tells us , " Conciones ficpe exclamare vidi ,
" cum verba apte cecidiffent. Id enim expedant
aures *." And he gives a remarkable inftance of
the-eifedl of a harmonious period upon a whole
aflembly , from a Sentence of one of Carbo's
Orations, fpoken in his hearing. The Sentence
was, " Patris diclum fapiens temeritas filii com-
" probavit." By means of the found of which »
alone , he tells us , " Tantus clamor concionis
" excitatus efh, ut prorfus admirabile effet.'' He
makes us remark the feet of which thefe words
confift , to which he afcribes the power of the
melody; and lliov/s how, by altering the collo-
cation, the whole efTecl would be loft; as thus:
" Fatris didum fapiens comprobavit temeritas
" filii." Now, though it be true that Carbo's Sen-
tence is extremely mulical , and would be agree-
able , at this day, to any audience,yet I cannot believe
that an Englifh Sentence , equally harmonious ,
would, by its harmony alone, produce any fach
effed on a Britifh audience, or excite any fuch
■wonderful applaufe and admiration , as Cicero
informs us this of Carbo produced. Our north-
ern ears are too coarfe and obtufe. The melody

* " I have often been witnefs to burfts of exclamation
" in the public aflen^blies , when Sentences clofed mufi-
^' cally ; for that is a pleafure which the ear expeds."

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 291

of Speech has lefs power over us , and by our L e c t»
fimpler and plainer method of uttering words, XIIL
Speech is , in truth , accompanied with Icfs melody
than it was among the Greeks and Romans *»

For thefe rea.fons , I am of opinion, that it is
in vain to think of beftowing the fame attention
ii.pon the harmonious Rrudure of our Sentence?^
that was beftowed by thefe ancient nations.
The doctrine of the Greek and Roman critics ,
on this head, has milled fome to imagine j that
it might be equally applied to our Tongue ; and
that our profe - writing m.ight be regulated by
Spondees and Trochees, and Iambus's and Pceohs
and other metrical feet. But, firft, our words cannot
be meafured , or , at leaft, can be meafured very
imperfectly by any feet of this kind. For, the
quantity, the length and lliortnefs cfouf fyllables^
is not , by any means , fo fixed and fubjeded
to rule, as in the Greek and Roman Tongues;
but very often left arbitrary , and determined
by the emphafis , and the fenfe. Next , though
our profe could admit of fuch metrical regulation^
yet, from our plainer method of pronouncing
all fort of difcourfe, the effed; would not be at
all fo fenfible to the ear , nor be rehllied with

* " In verfu quidera , theatra tota exclamant fi fuit
" una fyllaba aut brevior aut longior. Nee v«r6 multitude
" pedes novit, nee iillos numeros tenet; nee jllud quod
" offendit , aut cur , aut in quo offendat , intelHgit ; et
'^ tarnen omnium longitudinutn et brevitatinii in foriis ^
" ficut acutarum , graviuniqiie vocurii , judicium ipfa natura
" in auribus neftris coUocavit " CiCEKO , Orator, c, 51*

V ^

V292 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

1/ s c T. fo niuch pleafare , as among the Greeks and
Xlll. Romans : And , hiWy , This whole dodrine
about 'he meafures and numbers of profe, even
as it is delivered by the ancient rhetoricians them-
felves, is, in truth, in a great meafure loofe
and uncertain. It appears , indeed , that the melody
of difcourfe was a matter of infinitely more
attention to them , than ever it has been to the
moderns. But, though they write a great deal
about it , they have never been able to reduce
it to any rules which could be of real ufe in
praclice. If we confult Cicero's Orator , where
this point is difcuffed with the moft minutenefSj,
•we will fee how much thefe ancient critics differed
from one a.nother , about the feet proper for the
conclufion, and other parts of a Sentence; and
bow much, after all , was left to the judgmentj
of the ear. Nor, indeed, is it poffible to give
precife rules concerning this matter , in any Lan-
guage i as all profe - compofition muft be allowed
to run loofe in its numbers; and , according as
the tenor of a difcourfe varies, the modulation
of Sentences muft vary infinitely.

But , although I apprehend that this mufical
arrangement cannot be reduced into a fyftem , I
am far from thinking , that it is a quality to be
negledled in compofition. On the contrary , I
hold its eifed; to be very confiderable ; and that
€very one who ftudies to write with grace , much
more , who feeks to pronounce in public , with
fuccefs , will be obliged 'to attend to it not a,
little. But it is his ear, cultivated ,by attention
and pradice, that muft chiefly dired him. Fof

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 293

any rules that c?.n be given, on this fubjecl , Leg t.
are very general. Some rules , however , there XIII.
are, which may be of ufe to form, the ear to the
proper harmony of difcourfe, I proceed to mention
fuch as appear to me moft material.

THERt are two things on which the mufic of
a Sentence chiefly depends. Thefe are , the proper
diftribution of the feveral members of it; and, the
clofe or cadence of the whole

First, Ifay, the diftribution of tlie fcveral mem-
bers is to be carefully attended to. It is of import-
ance to obfervejthat whatever is ea£y and agreeable
to the organs of Speech, always founds grateful to-
theear. While a period is going on the termination
of each of its members forms a paufe or refb, in pro*
nouncing: and thefe refbs flionld be fo diRribut-
ted , as to make the courfe of the breathing eafy ,
auvd^atthe fame time ,lhould fall at fuch din;ances,as
to bear a certain mufical proportion to each other.
This v^ill be beft illuflrated by examples. The-
follovv^ing Sentence is from Archbiiliop Tillotfon;
" This difcourfe concerning the eafinefs of God's
" commands does , all along , fuppofe and
" acknowledge the difficulties of the firft entrance
*' upon a religious courfe ; except , Only in thofe
" perfons who have had the happinefs to be trained
*' up to religion by the eafy and infenfible degrees
" of a pious and virtuous education. " Here there
is no harmony ; nay , . there is fome degree o£
liarflinefs and unpleafantnefs ; owing principally
to this , that there is , properly , no more than
one paufe or reft in the Sentence, falling betwixt,
the t\YO members in.to >Yiiich it is divided ; each

?94 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T, of which is fo long as to occafion a confiderable
^IIl, ftretch of , the breath in pronouncing it.

Observe, now, on the other hand, the eafe
with which the following Sentence , from J^ir
William Temple, glides along, and the graceful
intervals at which the paufes are placed. He is
fpeaking farcaftically of man: " But God be
^' thanked, his pride is greater than his ignorance,
" and what he wants in knowledge , he fupplies
'^ by fufficiency. When he has looked about
" him, as far as he can, he concludes, there is
^' no more to be feen ; when he is at the end of
" his line, he is at the bottom of the ocean ; when
*' he has iliot his beft , he is fure none evei:
■•' did , or ever can , Ihoot better or beyond it.
'■^ His own reafon he holds to be the certain
*' meafure of truth; and his own knowledge , of
^' what is poflible in nature ". * Here every thing

* Or this inftance. — He is addreffing himfelf to Lady
Effex , upon the death of her child : " I was once in
"■ hope , that what was fo violent could not be, long:
" But , when 1 obferved your grief to grow ftronger
" with age , and to increafe , like a ftreani , the farther
, " it ran ; when I faw it draw out to fuch unhappy con-

" feijuences , and to threaten , no lefs than your child ,
'■ • your health , and your life. , I could no longer forbear
'' this endeavour , nor end it , without begging of you ,
" for God's fake , and for your own , for your children ,
" and your friends , your country , and your family , that
" you would no longer abandon yourfelfto a difconfolatq
" paffion ; but that you woukl , at length , awaken your
" piety, give way to your prudence , or, acleaft, roufe
" the invincible fpirit, of the Percys , that never yet
" fiirunk at any difafter."

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 295

is , at once , eafy to the breath , and grateful L e c t.
to the ear ; arid , it is this fort of flowing XIII. ^
meafure , this regular and proporlionaldivi-
fion of the members of his Sentences , which
renders Sir William Temple's ftyle always agree-
able. I muft obferve, at the fame time, that a Sen-
tence , with too many refts , and thefe placed
at intervals too apparently meafured and regular,
is apt to favour of affedation.

The next thing to be attended to, is, the clofe
OF cadence of the whole Sentence , which , as
it is aKvays the part moft fenfible to the ear,
demands the greateft care. So Ouinc^ilian: "Non
*' igitur durum fit, neque abruptum , quo animi
*' velut refpirant ac reficiuntur. Hsec eft fedes
*' orationis; hoc auditor expedat; hie laus omnis
*' declamat*, " The only important rule that can
be given here, is, that when we aim at dignity
or elevation, the found Ihould be made to grow
to the laft ; the longeft member^? of the period,
and the fulleft and moft fonorous words , fibould
be referved to the conclufion. As an example
of this , the following fentence of Mr. Addifon's
may be given : " It fills the mind ( fpeaking
*' of fight) with the largeft variety of ideas ;
" converfes with its objeds at the greateft diftance ;
*' and continues the longeft in acTcion, without

* " Let- there be nothing rafti- or abrupt in the con-
clufion of the fentence , on which the mind paufes
and refts. This is the moft material part in tiie ftruc-
ture of difcourfe. Here every hearer expeds to be
" .gratified ; here his applaufe breaks forth."

V4

2c^G HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T, "■ being tifed or fatiated with its proper enjoy-
aIIL " ments. "' Every reader mufb be feniible of Ji
beauty here, both in the proper divifioa of the
members and paufes and the manner in which
the Sentence is rounded, and conduced to a full
and harmonious clofe.

The fame holds in melody , that I obferved -
to take place with refped to figniiicancy ; that a
falling off at the end, always hurts greatly. For
thisreaion , particles, pronouns, and little words,
are as ungracious to the ear, at the conclufion ,
as 1 formerly fliowed they were inconfiftent with
ftrength of expreffion. It is more than pro-
bable , that the fenfe and the found have here
a mutual influence on each othen That which
hurts the e^ar , feems to mar the ftrength of the
meaning ; and that which really degrades the
fenfe, in confequence of this primary .effect, ap-
pears alfo to have a bad found. How difagree-
able is the following, fentence of an Author,
fpeaking of the Trinity! " It is a myfi;ery which
" we firm.ly believe the truth of, and humbly
" adore the depth of. " And how eafily could it
have been mended by this tranfpofition ! "It is
'^ a myftery , the truth of which we firmly be-
" lieve , and the depth of which we humbly
" adore." In general it feems to hold, that a
mufical clofe, in our language, requires either
the laft fyllable , or the penult, that is, the laft
JDut one , to be a long fyllable. Words which
-confift moftly of fhort fyllables , as , contrary , par-
ticular ^ rctrojpeci , feldom conclude a fentence har-

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 29?

nionioufly , unleis a nin of long fyllables , before, L e c T.
has rendered them agreeable to the ear. XIII.

It is neceffary , however , to obfcrve , that
Sentences , fo conftrucled as to make the found
always fwell and grow tov/ards the end , and to
reft either on a laftlong or a penult long fyllable,
give a difcourfe the tone of declamation. The
ear foon becomes acquainted vv^ith the melody ,
and is apt to be cloyed with it. If we would
keep up the attention of the reader or hearer , if
we would preferve vivacity and ftrength in our
compofition, we muft be very attentive to vary our
meafures. This regards the diftribution of the
members , as well as the cadence of the period.
Sentences conftruded in a fimilar manner , with
the paufes falling at equal intervals , fhould never
follow one another. Shdrt Sentences fhould be
intermixed with long and fwelling ones , to ren-
der difcourfe fprightly , as well as magnificent.
Even difcords , properly introduced , abrupt
founds , departures from regular cadence , have
fometimes a good effed. Monotony is the great
fault into which waiters are apt to fall , who are
fond of harmonious arrangement: and to have
only one tune , or meafure , is not much better
than having none at all. A very vulgar ear will
enable a writer to catch fome one melody, and
to form the run of his Sentences according to it;
which foon proves difgufting. But a juft and
corred; ear is requifite for varying and diverfify-
ing the melody: and hence \(t fo feldom meet;

298 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L F. c T. with authors , who are remarkably happy in
XIII. this refped.

Though attention to the miific of Sentences
muft not be negieded , yet it muft alfo be kept
within proper bounds : for ail appearances of an
author's affeding harmony , are difagreeable; efpe,
cially when the love of it betrays him fo far,
as to facrifice , in any inftance, perfpicuity, pre-
cifion , or flrength of fentiment , to found. All
unmeaning words, introduced merely to round
the period, or fill up the melody, comp'emrnta
numeroTum as Cicero calls them,are great blemilhes
in writing. They are childifh and puerile orna-
ments,by which aSentence always lofes more in point
of weight, than it can gain by fuch additions to the
beauty of its found. Senfe has its own harmony, as
well as found ; an d , where the fenfe of a period
is expreffed with clearnefs, force, and dignity,
it will feldom happen but the words will- ftrike
the ear agreeably; at leaf!;, a very moderate at-
tention is all that is requifite for making the ca-
dence of fuch a period pleafing : and the effed:
of greater attention is often' no other, than to
render compofition languid and enervated. After
all the labour which Q^uindilian beflows on re-
gulating the meafures of profe , he comes at laft,
with his ufual good fenfe, to this conclufion :
*' In univ^rfum , fi fit neceffe , duram potius atque
*' afperam compofitionem mahm effe , quam ef-
^ feminatam ac enervem , qualis apud multos.
" Ideoque, vinda quaedam de induftria funt fol-
" vend.i , lie laborata videantur ; neque uUum

HARMONY OF SENTENCES, .299

" idoneum aut aptum verbum przetermittamus , L e c t,
^' gratia lenitatis*. "( Lib. ix. c. 4. ) XIII.

Cicero, as I before obferved, is one of the
moft remarkable patterns of a harmonious ftyle.
His love of it, however, is too vifible ; and the
pomp of his numbers fometimes detracts from his
ftrength. That noted clofe of his , ej)e vidcatur,
which , in the Oration Pro Lege Manilia , occurs
eleven times, expofed him to cenfare among his
cotemporaries. We muPt obferve , however, iii
defence of this great Orator, that there is a re-
markable' union in his ftyle, of harmony with
eafe, which is always a great beauty; and if his
harmony be fometimes thought ftudied , that
iludy appears to have coft him little trouble.

Among our Englifh claffics, not many are
diftinguillied for mufical arrangement. Milton,
in fome of his profe works , has very finely turn-
ed periods; but the writers of his age indulged
a liberty of inverfion , which now would be
reckoned contrary to purity of ftyle: and though this
allowed their Sentences to be more ftately and fono-
lous , yec it gave them too much of a Latinized
conftrudion and order. Of later writers , Shafts-
bury is , upon the whole , the moft correal in his

* ^' Upon the whole, I would rather chufe, that com-
pofitioa fliould appear rough and harfh , if that be ne-
ceflary, than that it fliould be enervated and effemi-
nate fuch as v/e find the ftyle of too many. Some
fentences-, therefore,, which we have ftudiouny formed
into melody , fliould be thrown loofe , that they may
not feem too much laboured; nor ought we ever to
omit any proper or expreillve .v/ord, for the fake of
fmoothing a period.".

300 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. numbers. As his ear was delicate, he has attend-
XIII. ed to mufic in all his Sentences ; and he is pe-.
culiarly happv in this refpecl» that he has avoid-
ed the monotony into which writers , who
ftudy the grace of found , are very apt to fall ,
having diverlined his periods with great variety.
JVIr. Addilon has alfo much harmony in his ityle ;
more eafy and fmooth, but lefs varied, than
Lord Shaftlbury. Sir William Temple is , in
general, very flowing and agreeable. Archbifliop-
Tillotfon is too often carelefs and languid; and is
much outdone by Biihop Atterbury in the mufic
of his periods. Dean Swift defpifed raufical ar-
rangement ahogether.

Hitherto I have difcomfed of agreeable-
found, or modulation, in general; It yet remains-
to treat of a higher beauty of this kind; the found;
adapted to the fenfe. The former was no more-
than a fi.mple accompaniment, to pleafe the ear;
the latter fuppofes a peculiar exprcffion given tO'
the mufic. We may remark two degrees of it:
Firll:, the current of found, adapted to the tenor of
a difcourfe ; next , a particular refemblance effed:-
ed between fome objedl, and the founds that are
employed in defcribing it.

FiKST , I fay, the current of found may be
adapted to the tenor of a difcourfe. Sounds
have, in many refpecls, a correfpondence with
our ideas ; partly natural, parti/ the effed of
artificial aflbciations. Hence it happens , that any
one modula'ion of found continued , imprints on
our Style a certain charader and expreHion. Sei>

HARMONY 0.F SENTENCES. 501

tences conftrudled with the Ciceronian fnlnefs and L e c t.
fwell , produce the impreffion of what is import- XIII.
ant 5 magnificent, fedate. For this is the natural
tone which fuch a courfe of feotiment alTumes,
But theyfuitno violent paffion, no eager reafon-
ing, no familiar addrefs. Thefe always require
meafures brilkcr , eafier , and often more abrupt.
And , therefore , to fwell , or let down the peri-
ods, as the fubjed demands, is a very important
rule in oratory. No one tenor whatever , fup-
pofmg it to produce no bad effed; from fatiety ,
will anfwer to all different compofitions; nor everl
to all the parts of the fame compofition. It were
as abfurd to write a panegyric , and an invec-
tive , m a Style of the fame cadence , as to fet
the words of a tender love-fong to the air of a
•warlike march.

Observe how finely the following fentence of
Cicero is adapted , to reprefent the tranquillity
and eafe of a fatisfied Rate : " Etfi homini nihil
*' eft magis optandum quam profpera , ?equabilis,
*' perpetuaque fortuna , fecundo vitse fine ulla
*' offenfione curfu ; taraen , fi mihi tranquilla &
" placata omnia fuiffent , incredibili quadam SC
**^ pene divina , qua nunc Veftro beneficio fruor,
*' Isetiti^e voiuptate caruifTem *." Nothing was
ever more perfed in its kind : ir paints , if wc
may fo fpeak , to the ear But , who would
not have laughed , if Cicero had employed fuch
periods , or fuch a cadence a's this , in inveighing

^ Qm, ad ^uirites , poft Re^litum,

303 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. againft Mark Antony , or Catiline ? What is
XIII. requifite , therefore, is, that we previoiifly fix,
in our mind , a jufl idea of the general tone of
found which fuits our fabjed ; that is , which the
fentiments we are to exprefs , moft naturally
afiume , and in which they tnofi commonly vent
themfelves ; whether round and fmooth, or ftate-
' \j and folemn , or brilk and quick , or inter-

rupted and abrupt. This general idea mufb diredl
the run of our compofition ; to fpeak in the
flyle of mufic , muft give us the key-note , muft
form the ground of the melody ; varied and
diverfified in parts , according as either our fenti-*
, . ments are diverfified , or as is requifite for

producing a fnitable variety to gratify the ear.
- It may be proper to remark , that our tranf-
lators of the Bible have often been happy in
fuiting their numbers to the fubjedl. Grave,
folemn, and majeftic fubje<fls undoubtedly require
fuch an arrangement of words as runs m.uch on
long fyllables ; and , particularly , they require
the clofe to reft upon fuch. The very lirft verfes
, of the Bible , are remarkable for this melody : " In
" the beginning , God created the heavens and
"theearthjand the earth was \yithout form, and void^
" and dar!:nefs was upon the face of the deep; and
*' the Spirit of God moved on the face of the
" waters." Several other paffages , particularly
fome of the Pfalms , afford flriking examples of
this fort of grave , melodious conllruclion. Any
compofition that rifes confiderably above the
ordinary tone of profe , fuch as monumental

HAPvMONY OF SENTENCES. 303

infcriptions , and panegyrical charadlers , naturally L e c t.
runs into numbers of this kind. XIII.

Bu r , in the next place , befides the general
correfpondence of the current of found v/ith the
current of thought , there may be a more particular
expreffion attempted , of certain objcds , by means
of refembling founds. This can be , fometimes ,
accompliflied in profe - compofition ; but] there
only in a more faint degree ; nor is it fo much
expected there. In poetry , chiefly , it is looked
for; where attention to found is more demanded,
and where the inverfions and liberties of poetical
flyle give us a greater command of found ;
affifted , too , by the verfification , and -that
cuntus ohfcurior , to which Ave are naturally led
in reading poetry. This requires a little more
illuftration.

The founds of words may be employed
for reprefenting , chiefly , three claffes of ob-
jedls; firft, other founds; fecondly, motion; and
thirdly, the emotions and paffions of the mind.

First, I fay, by a proper choice of words ,
we may produce a refemblance of other founds
which we mean to defcribe , fuch as , the noife
of waters, the roaring of winds , or the murmur-
ing of ftreams. This is the fimpleft inftance of
this fort of beauty. For the medium through
which we imitate here , is a natural one ; founds
reprefented by other founds; and between ideas
of the fame fcnfe , it is eafy to form a connedlion.
No very great art is required in a poet, when he
is defcribing fweet and foft founds, to make ufe

304 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. of fucli words as have mod liquids and vowels ,
XIII. and glide the fofteft; or, when he is defcribing
harlli founds , to throw together a number o£
harlli fyllabies which are of difficult pronunciation.
Here the common ftrudure of Language affifts
him ; for , it will be found , that , in moft Lan-
guages , the names of many particular founds are fo
formed, as to carry forae affinity to the found
which they fignify ; as with us , the lohijlling of
winds , the buz and hurn of infecfts , the hifs of
ferpents , the crash of falling timber ; and many
other inftances , where the word has been plainly
framed upon the found itreprefents. 1 fhall produce
a remarkable example of this beauty from Milton,
taken from two paffages in Paradife Loft , defcrib-
ing the found made, in the one, by the opening
of the gates of Hell; in the other, by the opening
of thofe of Heaven. The contraft between the
two , difplays , to great advantage , the poet's art*
The firft is the opening of Hell's gates :

— ^ On a fudden , open fly ,

With impetuous recoil, and jarring found,
Th'infernal doors ; and on their hinges grate
Harlh thunder, B. II. v. 879

Obferve , now , the fmoothnefs of the other '.

Heaven open'd wide

Her ever-during gates, harmonious found

On golden hinges moving.— —— B. VII. v. ao?

The {ollo>ying beautiful paffage from TafTos

Gierufalemme ;,

HARMONY OF SENTEx^CES. 30^

Gterufalemme i has been often admired, on account L e g-t,
of the imitation effedled by iound of the thing XIIL
reprefented :

Chiama gli abitator dcIl' oinbre etern^,
II rauco fuoa della tarfcarea tromba ;
Tremaa le fpaziofe atre caverne ,
E I'aer cieco a quel romor rimbcnlba's
Ne ftridendo iiiai dalle fuperne
■Region! del cielo , il folgor plomba ,
Ne si fcoffa giamniai trema la terra,
^uando i vapori in fen gravida ferra;

Cant. IV, Stanz. ^,

The fecond clafs of objed? , which the found
bf words is often employed to imitate , is , Motion ,
as itisfwift or flow, violent or gentle , equable
or interrupted, eafy or accompanied with effort.
Though there be no natural affinity between
found, of any kiiid , and motion, yet, in the
imagination , there is a ftrong one ; as appears
from the connedion between mu{?c and dancing:.
And, therefore , here it is in the poet's power td
give us a lively idea of the kind of motion hs
v/ouid defcribe , by means of founds v/hich cor-
refpond, in our imagination, with that motion.
Long fyllables naturally give the impreHioii 01
fiov/ motion ; as in this line of Virgil :

Cili intec fefe magna vi brfichia tnllujit,
Vol. I. %

5C6 HARMONY OF SENTENCES.

L E c T. A -fucceffion of fiiort fyliables prefents quick
XIII. motion to the mindj as,

Qiiadirupedante putrem fonitu quatit ungiila
campiTni.

Both Homer and Virgil are great nftafters of
tliis beauty ; and their works abound with inftances
of it; moft of them, indeed, fo often quoted,
and fo well known, that it is heedlefs to produce
them. 1 Iliall give one inftance , in Englilh , which
feems happy. It is the defcription of a fudden
calm on the feas, in a Poem, entitled, The Fleece,

-"With eafy courfe

The veffels glide ; unlefs their fpeed be ftopp'd
By dead calms , that often lie on thefe fmooth feas
When ev'ry zephyr fleeps ; then the Ihrouds drop ;
The downy feather on the cordage hung ,
Moves not ; the flat fea fhines like yellow gold
Tus'd in the fire , or like the- marble floor
Of fome old temple wide. ' ' '

The third fet of objedls, which I mentioned
the found of words as capable of reprefenting,
confifts of the paflions and emotions of the mind.
Sound may , at firft view , appear foreign to
thefe; but, that here, alfo , there is fome fort
of connedion , isfafficiently proved by the power
■which mufic has to awaken , or^ to affift certain
paffions , and, according as its ftrain is varied,
to introduce one train of ideas , rather than another.
This , indeed , logically fpeaking , cannot be called

HARMONY OF SENTENCES. go^

a refembJance between the fenfe and the found, L e c T.
feeing long or Ihort fyllables have no natural XIIJ.
refemblance to any thought or paffion. But if the
arrangement of fyllables , by their found alone ,
recal one fet of ideas more readily than another ,
and difpofe the mind for entering into that aifeclioii
which the poet means to raife, fuch arrangement
may, juftly enough, be faid to refemble the fenfe,
or be fmiilar and correfpondent to it. I admit,
that , in many inflances , which are fuppofed to
difplay this beauty of accommodation of found
to the fenfe, there is much room for imagination
to work; and, according as a reader is ftruck by
a paffage , he will often fancy a refemblance be-
tween the found and the fenfe , which others
cannot difcover. He modulates the numbers to his
own difpofition of mind; and, in effedl, makes
the mufic which he imagines himfelf to hear.
However , that there are real inflances of this kind ,
and that poetry is capable of fome fuch expreffion,
cannot be doubted. Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's
Day, affords a very beautiful exemplification of
it, in the Englifh Language. Without much ftudy
or reflection, a poet defcribingpleafure, joy, and
agreeable objeds, from the feeling of his fubjed:,
naturally runs into fmooth , liquid, and flowing
numbers.

-^Jamqiie ipfa decoram

Cscfarierji nato genetrix , lunienque juventx
Purpureum , et Igstos ociiiis afflarat honores.

X z

joS HARMONY OF SENl'ENCESv

L E c T. . Or.
Xlil.

Devenere locos Itetos & amociia vireta ,
Fortunatoriim nemorum , fedefque beatas ;
Largior hie canipos cether , & luniine vellit
Purpiireo , folemque funni , fua fidera norant.

ffiN. YL

Brllk and Jively fenfatlons , exad quicker and
more animated numbers.

■ ■ Jiivcnum manus emicat ardens

Littiis in Hefpeiium. ' JEn. VIII,

Melancholy and gloomy fubjeds, naturally exprefs
themfelves in fiOw meafures , and long words:

In tliofe deep folitudes and awful cells ,
Where heavenly penfive contemplation dwells;

Et caligantem nigra formidine lucunl.

1 HAVE now given fufiiclent openings into this
fubjecl : a moderafe acquaintance with the good
poets, either ancient or modern, will fuggeft many
inflances of the fame kind. And with this, I finifli
the difculTion of the Structure of Sentences jhaving
fully conikiered them under all the heads I men-
tioned ; of Perfpicuity, Unity, Strength, and
Mufical Arrangement.

LECTURE XIV,

ORIGIN AND NATUP.K OF FIGURATIVE
LANGUAGE,

XlAVING now finifiied what related to the Leg
conftrudion of fentences , I proceed to other rules XIV.
concerning Style. My general divifion of the qua-
lities of Style , v/asinto Ferfpicuity and Ornament.,
Perfpicuity, both in fmgle words and in fenten-
ces , I have confidered. Ornament , as far as it
arifes from a graceful , ftrong , or melodious con-
flruclion of words , has alfo been treated of.
Another , and a great branch of the ornament
of Style, is, Figurative Language ; v-diichis now
to be the fubjed: of our confideration, and will
require a full difcuHlon.

Our firft enquiry muft be, What is m-eant by
Figures of Speech' ^ ?

* On the fubjed of Figures of Speech , all the writers
v/ho, treat of rhetoric or compofidon , have iafiited largely.
To make references , therefoie, on this fubjed: , were end-
lefs. On the foundations of Figurative Language, in general,
one of the moil fenfihle and infrrudive writers , appears to
me , to be M. Marfais , in his Traite des Tropa- pour
J'srvir d'lntroditclioji a la Rhhoriqzic , "^ a la Logiqtie^

X 3

310 ORIGIN AND -NATURE OF

=» L E c T. In general , they always imply fome departure
XIV. from fimplicky of expieffion ; the idea which we
intend to convey, not only enunciated to others ,
but enunciated, in a particular manner, and with
fome circumftance added, which is defigned to
render the impreffion more ftrong and vivid.
When I fay, for inftance, " That a good man
*' enjoys comfort in the midft of adverfity ; " I
juft exprefs my thought in the fimpleft manner
poifible. But when I fay, " To the upright there
" arifeth light in darknefs ; " the fame fentiment
is exprelTed in a figurative Style ; a new circum*
ffcance is introduced ; light is put in the place of
comfort, and darknefs is ufed to fuggeft the idea
of adverfity. In the fame manner , to fay , " It is
*' impoffible, by any fearch we can make, to
" explore the divine nature fully," is, to make
a fimple proportion. But when we fay, " Canft
*' thou, by fearching, find out God? Canftthou
" find out the Almighty to perfedlion ? It is high
" as Heaven , what canft thou do ? deeper than
" Hell, what canft thou know ? " This introduces
a figure into Style ; the propofition being not
only expreffed , but admiration and aftonifliment
being expreffed together with it.

But, though Figures imply a deviation from
what may be reckoned the moft fimple form of
Speech , we are not thence to conclude , that

For obfervations on particular Figures , the Elemeizts of
Crhicifm may be conruked,\vhc-re the fubjecl is fully handled,
and illuftrated by a great variety of examples.

. FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. grr

tliey imply any thing uncommon > or unnatural. Legt.
This is fo far from being the cafe , that , on XIY.
very many occafions , they are both the moffc
natural, and the moft common method of uttering
our fentiments. It is iropoffible to compofe any
difcourfe without ufmg them often; nay, there
are few Sentences of any length, in which feme
expreffion or other, that maybe termed a Figure
does not occur. From what caufes this happens
fliail be afterwards explaiiTed. The fad; , in the
mean time, fhows , that they are to be accounted,
part of that Language which nature dictates to
men. They are not the invention of the fchools ,
nor the mere product of Peudy: on the contrary ^
the mod illiterate fpeak in figures , as often as
the moft learned. Whenever the imaginations
of the vulgar are much av/akened , or their paflions;
inflamed againll: one another , they will pour
forth a torrent of Figurative Language , as forci-
ble as could be employed by the mofb artificial
declaimer.

What then is it , which has drav/n the
attention of critics and rhetoricians fo much to
thefe forms of Speech ? It is this : They remark-
ed, that in them confifls much of the beauty
and the force of Language ; and found them
always to bear fbme characters, or dilliinguifhing
marks , by the help of which they could reduce
them under feparate claffes and heads. To this ,
perhaps , they owe their name of Figures. As
the figure , or ihape of one body , diRinguifhes
it from another, fo thefe forms of Speech have^.

X 4

3T2 ORIGIN AND NATUPvE OF

L F c T. each of them, a caft or turn peculiar to itfe]t\
XIV. which both diftinguiilies it from the reit , and
dilb'nguiflies it from Simple Expreffion. Simple
lixpreffian juft makes our idea known to others ;
but Figurative Language , over and above , be-
llows a particular drefs upon that idea ; a drefs ,
which both makes it be remarked , and adorns
it. Hence, this fort of Language became early a
capital object of attention to thofe who fludiecl
the powers of Speech.

FiGIJKES, in general, may be defcribed to be
that Language, which is prompted either by the
imagination , or by the paffions. The juftnefs,
of this defcription will appear , from the more
particular account I am afterwaA'ds to give of
them. Rhetoricians commonly divide them into
two great claffes; Figures of Words, and figures
of Thought. The former, Figures of Words,
are commonly called Tropes , and confifl in a
word's being employed to fignify fomething that
is different from its original and primitive mean-
ing; fo that if you alter the word, you deRroy
the Figure. Thus, in the inftance I gave before;
'^^ Light arifeth to the upright , in darknefs;."
The Trope confifts, in *' light and darknefs"
being not m^eant literally , but fubPJtuted for
comfort and adverfity, on account of fome refcni-
blance or ana,logy , which they are fnppofe*.!
to bear to thefe conditions of life. The othcrclafs,
termed Figures of Thought, fuppofesthe words to
be ufed in their proper and litcralmeaning , and
the hgure to conuft in the turn pf the thonght.i

1;IGURAT1VE LANGUAGE. 313

as is tlie cafe in exclamations, interrogations, L e e Ti
apoRrophes , and coniparifons ; where , though XIV.
you vary the words that are ufed , ur tranOate
them from one Language into another, you may,
nevertheiefs, ftiU preferve the fame Figure in the
thought. Ihis dirdnciion , however, is of no
great ufe; as nothing can be built upon it in
pradice ; neither is it always very clear. It is of
little importance, whether we give to fome parti-
cular mode of expreliion the name of a Trope 5,
or of a Figure ; provided Vv^e remember , that F^igu-
rative Language always imports fome colouring
of the imagination, or fome emotion of paffion,
exprelTed in our Style: And, perhaps, figures
of imagination, and figures of paffion, might be
a more ufeful difiiribution of the fubjecl. But
without infifting on any artificial divifions , it
will be more ufeful , that I enquire into the
Origin and the Nature of Figures. Only, before
proceeding to this, there are two general obferva-
tions which it may be proper to premife.

The firll is , concerning the ufe of rules
with refpect to Figurative Language. 1 admit,
that perfons may both fpeak and write v/ith pro-
priety, who know not the names of any of the
Figures of Speech, nor ever irudied any rules
relating to them. Nature , as v/as before obferved
diiflates the ufe of Figures ; and , like PvTonf.
Jourciain, in Moliere , who liad fpoken for forty
years in profe , without ever knov/ing it, many
a one ufes metaphorical expielfions to good pur-
pofe, without any idea of what a m.etaphor is,

314 ORIGIN A^^D NATURE OF

E C Tf It will not, however, fi ilow thence, that rulc3
XIV. are of no fervice. All fcience arifes from obferva-
tions on pradice. Pracftice has always gone before
method and rule ; but method and rule have
afterwards improved and perfed:ed pradice , in
every art. We, every day, meet with perfons
who fmg agreeably, without knowing one note
of the gamut. Yet , it has been found of im-
portance to reduce thele notes to a fcale , and
to form an art of mufic ; and it would be ridicu-
lous to pretend , that the art is of no advantage ,
becaufe the practice is founded in nature. Pro-
priety and beauty of Speech , are certainly as im-
proveable as the ear or the voice ; and to know
the principles of this beauty , or the reafons
which render one Figure , or one manner of
Speech preferable to another , cannot fail to affift
and dired; a proper choiceo..

jBut 1 muft obferve, in the next place ,. that
although this part of ftyle merit attention ^
and be a very proper objed; of fcience and rule ;
although much of tjie beauty of compofitioii
depends on figurative language ; yet we mufl
beware of imagining that it depends folely , or
even chiefly, upon fuch language. It is not fo.
The great place v/hich the doclrine of tropes and
figures has occupied in fyftems of rhetoric; the
Over - anxious care which has been Ihown in
giving names to a vaft variety of them, and in
^ ranging them under difFeren.t clafTes , has often
led perfons to imagine, that, if their compofition
AVas -well befpangled with a number of thefe

FIGURATIVE LANGUA.GE. 3^5

ornaments of fpeech , it wanted no other beauty ; L e c T.
whence has arifen much ftiffnefs and affedlation. XIV.
For it is , in truth , the fentiment or paffion ,
which lies under the figured expreffion , that
gives it any merit. The figure is only the drefs;
the fentiment is the body and the fubftance. No
figures will render a cold or an empty compofitioii
intereftmg; whereas, if a fentiment be fubiime or
pathetic , it can fupport itfelf perfectly well ,
without any borrowed ailiftance. Hence feveral.
of the mofb affeding and admired pafTages of the
befb authors, are exprefied in the fimplePc language.
The following fentiment from Virgil, for inilance,
makes its way at once to the heart, without the
help of any figure whatever. He is defcribing aa
Argive , who falls in battle, in Italy, at a great
diftance from his native country :

Stemitur , infelix , alieno vulnere , Cffilumque
Afpicit , et duices nioriens reminifcitur Argos *.

En. X. 781.

A fmgle ftroke of this kind , drawn as by the
very pencil of Nature , is worth a thoufand figures,

* " Anthares had, from Argos travell'd far ,
Alcides friend , and brother of the war;
Now falling , by another's wound , his eyes
He calls to Heaven , on Argos thinks , and dies. "

In this tranflation , much of the beauty of the original is
lofl:. " On Argos thinks and dies , " is by no means equal
to "duices moriens reminifcitur Argos: "As he dies, he
" remembers his beloved Argos, " — =^ It is indeed obfciV"

9i6 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

1/ E c T. In (lie fame manner , tbe fimple flyle of Scripture:
XIV. " He fpoke, and it was Hone; lie commanded,
" and It Rood faft, " — "God hid , let there be
" light ; and there was light," imports a lofcy
conception to much greater advantage, than if it
had been decorated by the mofl; pompous me-
taphors. The fad is , that the flrong parhetic,
and the pure fublime , not only have htile de-
pendance on figures of fpeech , but , generally,
rejed; them. The proper region of thefe orna-
ments is , where a moderate degree of elevation
and paffion is predominant; and there they copi-
tribute to the embellilliment of difcourfe , only,

able , that in moft of thofe tender and pathetic paOTagcs ,
which do fo much honour to Virgil , that great poet exprelica
himfelf v/ith the iitiuoft funpiicicy i as ,

Te , dulcis Conjux , te folo in littore fecum ,
Te veniente die , te decedente canebat.

GSORG. IV.

And fo, in that moving prayer of Evander , upon his parting

with his fon Pallus :

At vos , 0 Superi ! et Diviim tu maxim e reclor
Jupiter , Arcadii qua:fo miferefcita regis.
Et patdas audite preces. Si nurniiia veitra
Incolumem Pallanta mihi , fi fata refervai-.t,
oi vifurus eurn vivo, et venturus in uniim-,
Vitam oro ; patiar qiiemvis durare labortm !
Sin aliquem infandum cafum , Fortuna, minaris.
Nunc , 0 nunc liceat crudelcm abrumpere vitam !
Dum curae ambigus , dum fpes incerta futuri ;
. Dum te , chare puer ! mca ibra et Tola voluptas !
Amplexu tenco ; gravior ne nuncius aures
\'ulncret- — - „^N. YIII 572.

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE/ gif

vlien there is a bafis of folic! thought and natural L s c T.
fentiment; when they are inferted in their proper XIV.
place; and when they rife, of themielves , from
the fubjedi , without being fought after.

Having premifed thefe obfervations , I proceed
to give an account of the Origin and nature of
Figures J principally of fach as have their depend-
ance on language ; including that numerous
tribe , which the rhetoricians call Tropes.

At the firft rife of language , men would begin
with giving names to the different objects which
they difcerned , or thought of. This nomencla-
ture ^vould , at the beginning , be very narrow.
According as men's ideas multiplied , and their
acquaintance vv^ith objeds increafed , their flock
of names and words would increafe a!fo. But to
the infinite variety of objects and ideas , no
language is adequate. No language is fo copious^
as to have a feparate word for every feparate
idea. Men naturally fouglit to abridge this
labour of multiplying words in infinitum ^ and, in
order to lay lefs burden on their memories ,
'made one vvord , which they had ajready appro-
priated to a certain idea or objed; , ftand alfo for
forae other idea or objed ; betvveen which and
the primary one, they found, or fancied, fome
relation. Thus , the prepohtion , in , w"as origi-
nally invented to exprefs the circumftance of
place: " The man v/as killed in the wood." In
progrefs of time, words were wanted to exprefs
men's being conned^ed vvath certain conditions of
fortune, or certain hcuations of iiiind^ and foms

5tg ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

L E c T. refcmblance , or analogy, being fancied between
XiV. thefe , and the place of bodies, the word, in ^
was employed to exprefs men's being fo circum-
ilanced; as, one's being ?'n health, or in fitknefs,
in profperity or in adv-erfity , z" joy or in grief,
in donbt , or in danger , or in fafety. Here we
fee this prepofition , in , plainly afTuraing a tro-
pical fignification , or carried off from its original
meaning, to fignify fomething elfe, which relates
to , or refembles it.

Tropes of this kind abound in all languages,
and are plainly owing to the w?.nt of proper
words. The operations of the mind and affec-
tions , in particular, are , in moft languages,
defcribed by words taken from fenfible obj?6ls.
The reafon is plain. The names of fenfible
objecls , were , in all languages , the words moft
early introduced ; and were , by degrees , extend-
ed to thofe mental objects, of which men had
more obfcure conceptions , and to which they
found it more difficult to affign diftincl names.
They borrowed , therefore , the name of fome
fenfible idea , where their imagination found
fomc affinity. Thus , we fpeak of , a piercing
judgment , and a clear head ; a foft or a hard
lieart ; a rough or a fmooth behaviour. We fay ,
inflamed by anger , -vrarmed by love , fvrellcd with
pride, mc/tet? into grief; and thefe are almoft (he
only fignificant words which we have for fuch
ideas.

But , although the barfennefs of language, and
^)icYf'ant of words, be doubtlefs one caufe of the

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 319

invention of Tropes ; yet it is not the only, nor, L e c T.
perhaps , even the principal fource~df this form XIV.
of fpeech. Tropes have arifen more frequently,
•and fpread themfelves wider , from the influence
which Imagination poflefTes over all language.
The train on which this has proceeded among
ail nations , I illali endeavour to explain.

Every objed: which makes any impreffion ou.
the human mind , is conftantly accompanied with
certain circumflances and relations , that ftrike
■us at the fame time. It never prefents itfelf to
our view, ifole , as the French exprefs it; that is
independent on, and feparated from , every other
thing ; but always occurs as fome how related to
other objects 5 going before them , or following
after them; their effed or their caufe; refembling
them , or oppofed to them ; diftinguifted by
certain qualities , or furrounded with certain cir-
cumflances. By this means , every idea or^objedt
carries in its train fome other ideas , which may
be confidered as its accelTories. 7 hefe accefiories
often ftrike the imagination more than the princi-
pal idea itfelf. They are , perhaps , more agree-
able ideas ; of they are more familiar to our
conceptions ; or they recal to our memory a
greater variety of important circumflances. 1 he
imagination is more difpofed to reft upon fome
of them ; an(d therefore , inftead of ufmg the
proper name df the principal idea which it means
to exprefs , it employs , in its place , the name
of the acceffory or correfpondent idea ; although
she principal have a proper and weli-knowi^

320 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

I, E c T- name of its own. Hence a vaft variety of tropical
XIV- ^^ figurative words obtain currency m all lan-
guages, through choice, not nectfnty; and rne:i
of lively imaginations are every day adding to
their number.

Thus , when we defign to intimate the pe-
riod, at which a ftate^ enjoyed moft reputation
or glory , it were eafy to employ the proper
words for expreffing this ; but as this readily
conneds , in our imagination, with the flourilh-
jng period of a plant or a" tree, we lay hold of
this correfpondent idea, and fay, "The Roman
" empire iiourifhed moft under Auguflus." The
leader of a fadion , is plain language ; but ^
becaufe the head is the principal part of the
human body , and is fuppofed to dired; all the
animal operations, refting upon this refemblance,
we fay , " Catiline was the head of the party."
The vford. , Voice ,• was originally invented to
fignify the articulate found , formacd by the or-
gans of the mouth; but, as by means of it men
fignify their ideas and their intentions to each
other , Voice foon afTumed a great many other
meanings , all derived from this primary effed:.
" To give our Yoice " for any thing, signified,
to give our fentlmeut in iavour of it. Not only
jfo; but Vfncc was transferred to figniy any inti-
rnation of will or judgment , though given
without the leafl interpofition o^il Voice in its
literal fenfe , or any found uttered at all. Thus
We fpeak of liftening ,to the I'oi.e of Confcience,
the Voice of nature, the Voice of God. This ufage

take?

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 321

takes place , not fo much from barrennefs of Ian- L e c t.
guage , or ^vant of a proper word , as from an XIV.
allufion which we choofe to make to Voice ^ in
its primary fenfe, in order to convey our idea,
connected with a circumftance which appears to
the fancy to give it more fprightHnefs and force.

The account which I have now given, and
which feems to be a full and fair one, of the
introduction of Tropes into all Languages ,
coincides with what Cicero fhortly hints , in his
third book De Oratore. " Modus transferendi
" verba late patet ; quam neceffitas primum
" genuit , coad;a inopia et anguftiis ; poll autem
" deledlatio , jucunditafque celebravit. Nam ut
" veftis , frigoris depellendi caufa reperta primo ,
" poft adhiberi csepta eft ad ornatum etiam cor-
" poriset dignitatem , fic verbi tranflatio inflituta
" eft inopi::^ caufa, frequentata, delecT;ationis *."

From what has been faid , it clearly appears,
how that muft come to pafs , which I had
occafion to mention in a former Le<flure , that all
Languages are moft figurative in their early ftate.
Both the caufes to which I afcribed the origin
of Figures , concur in producing this effed ^t

* " The figurative ufage of words is very extenfive ; an
iifage to vvhich neceffity firft gave rife , on account of
the paucity of v/ords , and barrennefs of Language , but
vv'hich the pleafure that was found in it afterwards ren-
dered frequent. For , as garments were firfl contrived to
defend our bodies from the cold, and afterwards were
employed for the purpofe of ornament and dignity, fo-
Figures of Speech , introduced by v/ant , v/ere cultivated
for the fake of entertainment. "

Vol. L y

332 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

L E c T. tlic beginnings of fociety. Language is then molV
XiV. barren; the flock of proper names, which have
been invented for things, is frnaJI ; and, at the
lame time , imagination exerts great influence
over the conceptions of men , and their method
of uttering them ; fo that , both from neceGGty
and from choice , their Speech will , at that period,
abound in '1 ropes. 1- or the fa^'age tribes of men
are always mAich given to wonder and aftonifh-
ment. Every new objedl furprifcs , terrifies, and
tnakes a Ptrong impreffion on their mind; they
are governed by imagination and paflion , more
than by reafon ; and , of courf^ , their Speech
muft be deeply tinctured by their genius. In
fadl , we find , that this is the charader oF the
American and Indian Languages; bold, pidluref-
que , and metaphorical ; full of ftrong allufions
to f^nfible qualities, and to fuch objedts as ftruck.
them mofi in their wild and folitary life. An
Indian chief makes a harangue to his tribe , in
a ftyle full of flronger metaphors than a Eu--^
rcpean would ufe in an epic poem.

As Language makes gradual progrefs towards
refinement , almoft every objed: comes to have a
proper name given to it , and Perfpicuity andPrc-
cifion are more ftudied. But flill, for the reafons
before given , borrowed words, or as rhetoricians
call them , Tropes , muft continue to occupy a
confiderable place. In every Language, too, there
are a multitude of words , which, though they
were Figurative in their firft application to certain
objeds , yet , by long ufe , lofe that figurative power

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 323

vliolly , and come to be confidered as fimple and L e c "U

literal expreffions. In this cafe , are the terms XIV,

which I remarked before , as transferred from fen-

bjefi qualities to the operations or qualitiesof the

mind , a piercing judgment, a. clear head . a hard

heart, and the like. There are other words which

remain in a fort of middle ftate ; which have neither

loft wholly their figurative application, nor yet

retain fo much of it, as to imprint any remarkable

character of figured Language on our flyle; fuch

as thefe phrafes, " apprehend one's meaning; "

" enter on a fubjecl ; " ^' follow out an. argument ; "

" ftir up ftrife ;" and a great m.any more , of which

our Language is full. In the ufe of fuch phrafes,

correct v/riters will alv/ays preferve a regard to

the figure or allufion on which they are founded,

and will be careful not to apply them in any way

that is inconfiftent with it. One maybe " fheltered

*' under the patronage of a great man ; "but it were

wrong to fay, '''flickered under the mafque of

" diifimulation ," as a mafque conceals, but does

not fhelter. An object in defcription , may be

"clothed, "if you will, "with epithets;" but

it is not fo proper to fpeak of its being " clothed

55 with circumftances ; " as the word " circumftan-

ces , " alludes to ftanding round , not to clothing.

Such attentions as thefe are requifite in the common

run of Style.

What has been faid on this fubjecl; , tends to
throw light on the nature of Language in p-eneral;
and v/ill lead to the reafons , Why Tropes or Fi-
gures contribute to the beauty and grace of Style,

Y z

324 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

L E c T. First, They enrich Language, and render it
XIV. more copious. By their means , words and phra-
fes are multiphed for expreiling all forts of ideas;
for defcribing even the minutefi; differences ; the ni-
cell fhades and colours of thought; which no Lan-
guage could poffibly do by proper words alone,
without affi fiance from Tropes.

Secondly, They bellow dignity upon Style.
The familiarity of common words, to which our
ears arc much accuftomed , tends to degrade Style.
When we want to adapt our Language to the
tone of an elevated fubjed, we would be greatly
at a lofs , if we could not borrow affiftance from
Figures ; which properly employed , have a fimilar
effed on Language , with what is produced by
the rich and fplendid drefs of a perfon of rank ;
to create refped , and to give an air of magnifi-
cence to him who wears it. Affiftance of this
kind, is often heeded in profe compofitions ; but
poetry could not fubfift without it. Hence Figu-
res form the conftant Language of poetry. To fay,
that " the fun rifes , " is trite and common ; but it be-
comes a magnificent image when expreffed, as Mr.
Thomfon has done :

But yonder comes the powerfol king of day
Rejoicing in the eaft.

To fay , that " all men are fubjed alike to death ,"
prefents only a vulgar idea ; but it rifes and fills
the imagination /when painted thus by Horace:

FIGUPvATIVE LANGUAGE, S'^-S

Pallida mors asqiio pulfat pede , pauperum tabemas L E c T.

Regumque turreSi XiV=

Or ,

Omnes eodem cogimur ; omnium j
Verfatur urna , feriiis , ocyus ,
Sors exitura , et nos in sternum
Exilium impofitura cymbse *.

In the third place , Figures give us the pleafurcr
of enjoying two objects prefented together to
our view, without confufion; the principal idea
which is the fubjed of the difcourfe , along with
its acceiTory , which gives it the figurative drefs.
Wc' fee one thing in another , as Ariftotle expref-
fes it; which is always agreeable to the mind. For
there it nothing with which. the fancy is more de-
lighted , than with comparifons , and refemblan-
ces of objects; and all Tropes are founded upon
fome relation or analogy between one thing and
another. When , for inflance , in place of" youth,"^
I fay, the " morning of life ;" the fancy is imme-
diately entertained with all the refembling circum*

Or,

>i, 'With equal pace , impartial fate ,
Knocks at the palace , and the cottage gate.

'^^e all muft tread the paths of fate ;

And ever fhakes the mortal urn ;
Whofe lot embarks us , foon or late ,

On Charon's boat ; ah ! never to return^,

Francis"

526 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

I E c T. ftances which prefently occur between thefe two
XIV. obiecfts. At one moment, 1 have in my eye a
certain period of human Jife , and a certain time
of the day, fo related to ea^h other, that the ima-
gination plays between them with pleafure , and
contemplates two fimilar objedls, in one view,
without embarraffment or confufion. Not only
fo , but ,

In the fourth place , Figures are attended with
this farther advantage , of giving us frequently a
much clearer and more ftriking view of the princi-
pal objedl , than we could have if it were expref-
fed in fimple terms, and divefted of its acceffory
idea. This is, indeed, their principal advantage,
in virtue of which , they are very properly faid to
illuflirate a fubjed , or to throw light upon it.
For they exhibit the objeft, on which they are
employed , in a pidlurefque form ; they can render
nn abflradt conception , in fome degree, an object
of fenfe ; they furround it Vs^ith fuch circumftances
as enable the mind to lay hold of it fteadily , and
to contemplate it fully. " Thofe perfons , " fays one,
"who gain the hearts of moil people, who are
"chofen as the companions of their fofter hours,
" and their reliefs from an^iiety and care , are fcldoni
''perfons of fhining qualities, or f}rong virtues:
*' it is rather the foft green of the foil , on which
"we reft our eyes, that are fatigued with behold-
*'ing more glaring objedls." Here, by a happy
allufion to a colour , the whole conception is con-
veyed clear and ftrong to the mind in one word.
By a well chofen Figure , even convidion, is alTiftecI,

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 327

and the irapreffion of a truth npon the mind made L e c t.
more lively and forcible than it would otherwife XIV.
be. As in. the fallowing illuftration of Dr. Youngs:
" When we dip too deep in pleafure , we always
" fhir a fediment that renders it impure and noxi-
"ous ; " or in this, " A heart boiling with vio-
" lent paiTions, will always fend up infatuating
"fumes to the head." An imag,e that prefents fo
much congruity between a moral and a fenfible
idea, ferves like an argument from analogy to en-
force what the author afferts , and to induce be-
lief.

Besides , whether \ve are endeavouring to raife
fentiments of pleafure oraverfion, we can alwav^
heighten the emotion by the figures which we in-
troduce j leading the imagination to a train , eith< r
of agreeable or difagreeable , of exalting or dcbaf-
ing ideas, correfpondent to the impreffion which
we feek to make. When we want to render an
obed: beautiful, or magnificent, we borrow ima-
ges from all the mofi: beautiful or fplcndid fcenes
of nature; we thereby, naturally , throw a luftre
over our objecl; we enliven the reader's mind,
and difpofe him to go along with us in the gay
and pleaiing impreffions which we give hira of
the fubjedl. This effedl of Figures is happily touch-
ed in the following lines of Dr. Akeiiiide , itiid
illuftrated by a very fubHme figure :

Then the inexpreHive itm'in.

Diffufes its enchantment. Fancy dreams
Of facred fountains and Elyfiaia groves ,

Y4

j-B ORIGIN AND NATLTvE OF

L E C T. ^j,^ vales of blifs. The intellecflual power

Bends from his awful throne a \vontVring ear ,

And fmiles. ■

Pleaf. of Iniaginat. I. 124.

What I have now explained , concerning the
life and effedls of Figures , natiTrally leads us to
reflect on the wonderful power of Language: and
indeed , we dannot refied; on it without the higheft
admiration. A¥hat a fine vehicle is it now become
for all the conceptions of the human mind ; even
for the moft fubtile and delicate workings of the
imagination !jWhat a pliant and flexible inftrument
in the hand of one who can employ it fkilfully ;
prepared to take every form which he chufes to
give it! Not content with a fimple communication
of ideas and thoughts , it paints thofe ideas to the
eye; it gives colouring and relievo, even to the
mofl abftrad conceptions. In the figures which
it ufes , it fets mirrors before us, where we may
behold objeAs , a fecond time, in their likenefs.
It entertains us, as with a fucceffion of the mo fb
fplendid pi(flures; difpofes , in the mofl artificial
manner , of the light and fhade , for viewing eve-
tV thing to the bed advantage; in fine , from being
a rude and imperfect; interpreter of men's wants
and neceffities ,ithas now paffedinto an inftrument
of the moft delicate and refined luxury.

To make thefe effeds of Figurative Language
fenfible , there are few authors in the Englifii
Language , whom I can refer to with more

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 329

advantage than Mr. Addifon , wliofe imagina- L e c t.

tion is,at once, remarkably rich, and remark- XIV.

ably corred and chaRe. When he is treatmg,

for inftance , of the effed which light and colours

have to entertain the fancy, confidered in Mr.

Locke's view of them as fecondary qualities , which

have no real exiftence in matter , but are only *

ideas in the mind, with what beautiful painting

has he adorned this philofophic fpeculation?

"Things ," fays he, "would make but a poor

" appearance to the eye, if we faw them only in their

" proper figures and motions. Now , we are everv

" where entertained with pleafingfhows and appar-

" itions; we difcover imaginary glories inthehea-

" vens, and in the eafth , and fee fome of this vifio-

" nary beauty poured out upon the whole crea-

" tion. But what a rough unfightlyfketch of nature

" fhould we be entertained with , did all her co-

*' louring difappear, and the feveral diRindions of

" light and . (hade vanilli? In lliort, our fouls are,

" at prefentj delightfully lofl, and bewildered in

" a pleafmg delufion ; and we walk about, like

** the enchanted hero of a romance , who fees

*' beautiful caftles , woods, and meadovv^s ; and,

'' at the fame time , hears the warbling of birds,

" and the purling of dreams : but , upon the fin-

" ifhing of fome fecret fpell , the lantaftic fcene

" breaks up, and the difconfolate knight finds

" himfelf on a barren heath , or in a folitary de-

" fert. It is not improbable , that fomething like

" this may be the (late of the foul after its firil

;>D^

ORIGIN AND NATURE OF

L E c T. " reparation, in refpedl of the imager it will re-
XIV. " ceive from matter.'' No. 413. Spec.

Having thus explained, at fufficient length ,
the Origin , the Nature , and the Kffeds of Tro-
pes, I fliould proceed next to the feveral kinds
and divifions of them. But, in treating of thefe,
were I to follow the common tracl of the fcho-
laflic writers on Rhetoric , I fliould fooii
become tedious, and, I apprehend, ufelefs,
at the fame time. Their great bufmefs has been,
with a moft patient and frivolous induftry, to
branch them out under a vaft number of divifions,
according to all the feveral modes in which a
word may be carried from its literal meaning ,
into one that is Figurative, without doing any-
more ; as if the mere knowledge of the names
and claffes of all the Tropes that can be formed ,
could be of any advantage towards the proper ,
or graceful ufe of Language. All that I purpofe
is, to give, in a few words, before finiflTing
this Ledure , a general view of the feveral four-
ces whence the tropical meaning of words is deri-
ved: after which I fliall , in fubfequent Lectures,
defcend to a more particular confideration of
fome of the moft confiderable Figures of Speech,
and fuch as are in moft frequent ufe; by treating
of which , I ftall give all the inftruiftion I can ,
concerning the proper employment of Figurative .
Language, and point out the errors and abufes
which are apt to be committed in this pa.rt of ftyle.
A..L Tropes , as I before obferved , are found-
ed on the rchition which one objefl bears to

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 33?

another ; in virtue of which , the name of the L e c t,
one c?ai be fubftituted inftead of the name of XIV.
the other; and by fuch afubftitution, the vivacity
of the idea is commonly meant to be increafed.
Thefe relations, fome more, fome lefs intimate ,
may all give rife to Tropes. One of the firft
and moft obvious relations is , that between a
caufe and its effedl. Hence, in Figurative Lan-
guage, the caufe is, fometimes , put for theeffect.
Thus , Mr. Addifon, writing of Italy: ,

BlofToms , and fruits , and flowers , together rife ,
And the whole year in gay confufion lies.

Where the" whole year" is plainly intended, to
fignify the effects or produdlions of all the fea-
fons of the year. At other times , again, the
effect is put for the caufe; as, " grey hairs"
frequently for old age, v*'hich caufes grey hairs;
and " fliade, " for trees that produce the Ihade.
The relation between the container and the tiling
contained, is alfo fo intimate and obvious, as
naturally to give rife to Tropes :

■ Hie impiger haufit

Spiimanteni paterani et pleno fe proluit auro.

Where every one fees , that the cup and the gold
are put for the liquor that was contained in the
■ golden cup. In the fame manner, the name of
any country, is often ufcd to denote the inha-
bitants of that country : and Heaven , very com-

333 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF.

L E c T. monly employed to f^gnify God, becaufe he is

XIV. conceived as dwelling in Heaven. To implore

the affiftance of Heaven, is the fame as to implore

the affiftance of God. The relation betwixt any

eftablifhed fign and the thing fignified^ is a fur-

- ther fource of Tropes. Hence ,

Cedant arma togae ; concedat laurea linguze.

The ''toga," being the badge of the civil pro-
felfions, and the '' laurel ," of military honours^
the badge of each is put for the civil and mili-
tary characters themfelves. To " affume the fcep-
*' tre ," is a common phrafe for entering on
loyal authority. To Tropes, founded on thefe
feveraJ relations, of caufe and effetl, container
and contained , fign and thing fignified , is given
the name of Metonymy.

When the Trope is founded on the relation
between an antecedent and a confequent , or
what goes before, and immediately follows after,
It is then called a Metalepfis ; as in the Roman
phrafe of "Fuit," or "Vixit," to exprefs that
one was dead. " Fuit Ilium et ingens gloria
" Dardanidum ,'' fignifies , that the glory of
Troy • is now no more.

When the whole is put for a part, or a part
for the whole; a genus for a fpecies, or afpecies
for a genus; the fmgular for the plural, or the
plural for the fmgular number; in general, when
any thing lefs , or any thing more, is put for
the precife object meant; the figure i$ then called
a Synecdoche. It is very common, forinftance.

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 333

to defcribe a whole objed by fome remarkable L e c t.
part of it; as when we fay, "A fleet of fo many XIV.
" fail,'' in the place of " fhips^'' whea we ufe
the "head"xfor the " perfon ," the " pole" for the
' earth" the " waves" for the " fea." In like manner,
an attribute may be put for afubjed:; as/ 'Youth and
*' Beauty," for the young and beautiful;" andfome-
times a fubjed for the attribute , But it is needlefs
toinfift longe'r on this enumeration , which ferves
little purpofe. I have faid enough, to give an
opening into that great variety of relations
between objeds , by means of which, the mind
is affifted to pafs eafily from one to another;
and, by the name of the one, underffcands the
other to be meant. It is always forae accefifory •
idea , which recals the principal to the imagina-
tion ; and commonly recals it with more force,
than if the principal idea had been expreffed. \
V The relation which, of all others, is by far
the moft fruitful of Tropes , I have not yet
mentioned; that is, the relation of Similitude
and Refemblance. On. this is founded what is
called the Metaphor: when, in place of ufmg
the proper name of any objed , we employ , in
its place , the name of fome other which is like
it; v/hich is a fort of pidure qi it, and which
thereby awakens the conception of it with more
force or grace. This figure is more frequent than
all the reft put together; and the language,
both of profe and verfe , owes to it much qi its
elegance and grace. This, therefore, deferves
very full and particular confideration ; and ffKiil
be tiie fubjed of the next Ledure.

LECTURE XV.

L E C T.

-XV.

METAPHOR.

-FTER the preliminary obfervatioiis I have
made, relating to Figurative Language in go-
neral , I come now to treat feparately of fuch
Figures of Speech , as occur moft frequently ,
and require particular attention: and I begin
\vith Metaphor. This is a figure founded en-
tirely on the refemblance which one objed: bears
to another. Hence , it is much allied to Simile ,
or Comparifon ; and is indeed no other than a
comparifon , expreffed in an abridged form.
When I fay of fome great minifter, " that he
" upholds the flate, like a pillar which fupports
*' the weight of a whole edifice," I fairly make
a comparifon; but when 1 fay of fuch a minifter,
" that he is the Pillar of the flatc," it is now
become a Metaphor. The comparifon betwixt
the Minifler and a Pillar, is made in the mind;
but is expreffed without any of the words that
denote comparifon. The comparifon is only
,jafmuatcd, not expreffed: the one object is

METAPHOR. 335

fuppofed to be fo like the other, that, without L e c T,
formally drawing the compariion , the name of XV.
the one may be put in the place of the name of
the other. " The minifter is the Pillar of the
*' ftate." This , therefore , is a more lively and
animated manner of expreffing the refemblances
which imagination traies among objedls. There
is nothing which delights the fancy more, thari
this act of cornparing things together, difcovering
refemblances between them, and defcribinsc them
by their likenefs. The mind thus employed, is
exercifed without being: fatig-ued, and is gratified
with the confcioufnefs of its own ingenuity. We
need not be furprifed, therefore, at finding all
Language tinctured firongly with, Metaphor. It
infmuates itfelf even into familiar converfation ;
and, unfought , rifes up of its own accord in
the mind. 1 he very words which I have
cafually employed in defcribing this, are a proof
of what I fay; tinciured^ injinuatcs , rifes vp ^ are
all of them metaphorical expreilions , borrowed
from fome refemblance which fancy forms be-
tween ferifible objecis, and the internal operations
oi the mind; and ye c the terms are no iefs clear,
and, perhaps, more expreilive, than if words
had been ufcd , which were to be taken in the
flricl and hteral fenfe.

Though all Metaphor imports comparifon,
and, therefore, is, in that refpect , a figure of
thought; yet, as the v/ords in a Metaphor are
not taken literally , but changed from their pro-
per to a Figurative fenfe, the Metaphor is

336 METAPHOR.

L E c T. commonly ranked among Tropes or Figures of
XV. words. But , provided the nature of it be well
underftood, it lignifies very little whether we
call it a Figure or a Trope. I have confined it
to the expreffion of refemblance between two
objeds. Imuffc remark, however, that the word
IVletaphor is fometimes ufed in a loofer and more
extended fenfe ; for the application of a term in
any figurative fignifieation , whether the figure
be founded on refemblance, or on fome other
relation , which two objecfls bear to one another.
For inftance ; when grey hairs are put for old
age, as, "to bring one's grey hairs with forrow
" to the grave;" fome writers would call this a
Metaphor, though it is not properly one, but
■what rhetoricians call a Metonymy; that is,
the effed: put for the caufe; ''grey hairs" being
the effed: of old age, but not bearing any fort
of refem.blance to it. Ariftotle , in his Poetics ,
ufes Metaphor in this extended fenfe , for any
iigurative meaning impofed upon a word ; as a
■whole put for the part, or, a part for the whole;
a fpecies for the genus, or a genus for the fpecies.
But it would be unjuft to tax this moft acute
writer with any inaccuracy on this account; the
minute fubdivifions , and various names of
Tropes , being unknown in his days , and the
invention of later rhetoricians. Now, however,
'when thefe divilions are eftablifhed, it is inac-
curate to call every figurative ufe of terms, pro-
mlfcuouOv, a Metaphor*

Of

METAPHOR. ^37

OF all the figures of Speech , none comes fo L e c t.
near to painting as Metaphor. Its peculiar effecl; XV.
is to give light and -flrength to defcription; to
make intelledlual ideas, in fome fort, vifible to
the eye, by giving them colour, and fubftance,
and fenfible quahties. In order to produce this
effect, however, a delicate hand is required; for,
by a very little inaccuracy, we are in hazard
of introducing confufion , in place of promoting
Perfpicuity. Several rules , therefore , are necef- ■
fary to be given for the proper management
of Metaphors. But, before entering on thefe,
I fliall give one inftance of a very beautiful
Metaphor, that I may Ihow the figure to full
advantage. 1 fhall take my inftance from Lord
Bolingbrok:e*s Remarks On the Hiftory of Eng-
land. Juft at the conclufion of his work , he is
fpeaking of the behaviour of Charles I. to his
laft parliament : " In a word ," fays he , " about
*' a month after their meeting, he dilToJved
*' them; and, as foon as he had diffolved them^
" he repented; but he repented too late of his
" raflmefs. Well might he repent ; for the veffel
*' was now full , and this laft drop made the
*' waters of bitternefs overflow." "Here,"? he
adds , " we draw the curtain , and put an end
*' to our remarks." Nothing could be more
happily thrown off. The Met.^tphor , we fee , is
continued through fcveral expreffions. The vejjcl
is put for the ftate , or temper of the nation
already full, that is, provoked to the hipheft
by former -oppreflions and wrongs ; this laj} drop,

Vol. L Z

338 jM E T A P H O R.

L E c T. ftands for the provocation recently received by

XV. the abrupt dilTolution of the parliament; and the

overflo-voinc] of the ivatcrs of biitcrnefs , beautifully

exprefles all the effeds of refentment let loofe

by an exafperated people.

On this pafTage, we may make two remarks
in paiTing. The one, that TiOthing forms a more
fpirited and dignified conclufion of a fubjcd; ,
than a figure of this kind happily placed at the
clofe. We fee the effecT; of it, in this inftance.
The author goes off with a good grace ; and
leaves a ftrong and full impreffion of his fubjcd:
on the reader's mind. JVly other remark is, the
advantage which a Metaphor frequently has
above a formal comparifon. How much would
the fentiment here have been enfeebled, if it had
been expreffed in the flyle of a regular fmiile ,
thus: "Well might he repent; for the ftate of
" the nation, loaded v/ith grievances and pro-
" vocations, refembled a veffel that was now
" full , and this fuperadded provocation , like
" the laft drop infufed , made their rage and
*' refentment, as waters of bitterhefs , overflow."
It has infinitely m.ore fpirit and force as it now
ftands, in the form of a Metaphor. "Well
" might he repent; for the veffel was now full;
" and this laft drop made the waters of bitter-
" nefs overflow.

Having mentioned, with applaufe, this in-
ftance from Lord Bolingbroke, 1 think it incum-
bent on me here to take notice, that, though I
may have recourfe to this author, fometimes.

METAPHOR. 339

for examples of ftyle , it is his flyle only, and L e c t.
not his fentiments, that deferve praife. It is, XV.
indeed , my opinion , that there are few writings
in the EngHili Language , which , foi: the matter
contained in thsm , can be read with lefs profit
or fruit, than Lord Bolingbroke's works. His
political writings ha.ve the merit of a very lively
and eloquent flyle ; but they have no other ;
being, as to the fubftance, the mere temporary
produdions of faction and partv ; no better ,
indeed, than pamphlets v/ritten for the day. His
Pofthumous , or , as they are called , his Philo^
fophical Works, wherein he attacks religion,
have ftill lefs merit; for they are as loofe in the
ftyle as they are flimfy in the reafoning. An
unhappy inftance , this author is, of parts and
genius fo miferably perverted by fadion and
paffion , that, as his memory will defcend to
pofterity with little honour, fo his produdlions
will foon pafs , and are, indeed, already palTing
into neglect and oblivion.

Returning from this digreflion to the fub-
jed before us , I proceed to lay down the rules
to be obferved in the condu6l of Metaphors ;
and which are much the fame for Tropes of
every kind,

Th£ iirl^ which I fliall mention, is, that the)^
be fuited to the nature of the fubjed of which
v/e treat; neither too many, nor too gay, nor
too elevated for it; that we neither attempt to
force the fubjed, by means of them, into a
degree of elevation which- is not congruous to

340 M E T A P H O R.

L E c T. it ; nor, on the other hand, allow it to fmk
XV. below its proper dignity. This is a dircsflion
which belongs to all Figurative Language , and
fhould be ever kept in view. Some Metaphors
are allowable, nay beautiful, in poetry, which
it would be abfurd and unnatural to employ in
profe ; fome may be graceful in orations , which
would be very improper in hiftorical , or philo-
fophical compofition. ^,VQ muft remember, that
figures are the drefs of our fentiments. As there
is a natural congruity between drefs , and the
character or rank of the perfon who wears it ,
a violation of which congruity never fails to
hurt ; the fame holds precifely as to the applica-
tion of figures to fentiment. The exceffive, or
unfeafona'ble employment of them , is mere fop-
pery in writing. It gives a boyifli air to com-
pofition ; and, inftead of raifmg a fubjedl, in
fadl, diminiihes its dignity. For, as in life,
true dignity muft be founded on charader , not
on drefs and appearance, fo t4ie dignity of com-
pofition muft arife from fentiment and thought,
not from ornament. The affectation and parade
of ornament, detract as much from an author,
as they do from a man. Figures and Metaphors,
therefore, fliould, on no occafion , be ftuck on
too profufcly; and never fhould be fuch , as re-
fufe to accord with the ftrain of our fentiment.
^Jothing can be more unnatural, than for a
writer to carry on a train of reafoning, in the
fame fort of Figurative Language, which he
"VYOuld ufe in defcription. When he reafons,

METAPHOR. 341

we look only for perfpicuity; when he defcribes, L e c t.

we exped embellilhment; when he divides, or XV.

relates , we defire plainnefs and fimplicity. One

of the gfeateft fecrets in compofition is, to

know when to be fimple. This always gives

a heightening to ornament, in its proper place.

The right difpofition of the fliade , makes the

light and colouring ftrike the more: "Is enim

" eft eloquens," fays Cicero, "qui et humilia

*' fubtiliter, et magna graviter, et mediocria

" temperate poteft dicere.— Nam qui nihil jboteft

" tranquille, nihil leniter, nihil definite, diftin^Hie,

" potefb dicere , is , cum non praeparatis auribus

*' inflammare rem coepit, furere apud fanos, etquafi.

*' inter fobrios bacchari teraulentus videtur \"

This admonition fliould be particularly attended ,

to by yomig pradlitioners in the art of writing,

who are apt to be carried away by an undiftinguifh-

ing admiration of what is fliowy and florid,

whether in its place or not*.

* " He is truly eloquent, who can difcourfe of humble
*' fubjeds in a plain llyle , who can treat important ones
*' with dignit)^ , and fpeak of things , which are of a middle
" nature , in a temperate flrain. For one who , upon no
" occafion , can exprefs himfelf in acalm,, orderly, diftindt
" manner , when he begins to be on fire before his readers
" are prepared to kindle along with him , has the appearance

of raving like a madman among perfons who are in their
fenfes , or of reeling like a drunkard in the midft of
*' fober company, "

* What perfon of the leaft tafte , can bear the folloiving
paflage , in a late hiftorian. He is giving an account of

Z3

342 METAPHOR.

!> E c T, The fecond rule, which I give, refpecls the
XV, choice of objedls, from whence Metaphors,
and other Figures , are to be drawn. The field
for Figurative Language is very wide. All
nature, to fpeak in the ftyle of figures, opens
its ftores to us , and admits us to gather,
from all fenfible objeds, whatever can iliuftrate
intelledlual or moral ideas. Not only the gay
and fplendid objeds of fenfe, but the grave, the
terrifying, and even the gloomy and difmal, can,
on different occafions , be introduced into figures
with propriety. But we muft beware of ever
ufmg fuch allufions as raife in the mind difagree-
able , mean , vulgar, or dirty ideas. Even , when
Metaphors are chofen in order to vilify and
degrade any objedl, an author fliould ftudy
never to be naufeous in his allufions. Cicero
blames an orator of his time, for terming his
enemy " Stercus Curiae ;" " quamvis fit fimile ,'*

the famous ad: of parliament againfl: irregular Marriages in
England: " Thebill," fays he, " underwent a great number
of alterations and amendments , which were not effeded
without violent conteft. ". This is plain Language ,
fuited to the fuBject ; and we naturally exped , that he
fliould go on in the fame llrain , to tell us , that , after
thefe contefts , it was carried by a great majority of voices,
and obtained the royal affent. But how does he exprefs
himfelf in finifliing the period ? " At length , however , it
*' was boated through both houfes , on the tide of a great
*' majority, and fleered into the fafe harbour of royal
" approbation. " Nothing can be more puerile than fuch
Language. Smollct's liiflory of England, as quoted in
Critical Review for Od, 1761 , p, 251,

METAPHOR. 343

lays he, *' tameii eft deformis cogitatio fimilitu- L E c t.
" dinis." But, in fubj jds of dignity, it is an XV.
unpardonable fault to introduce mean and vulgar
Metaphors. In the treatife on the Art of Sinking,
in Dean Swift's works , there is a full and
humorous coliedlion of inftances of this kind ,
wherein authors, inftead of exalting, have con-
trived to degrade , their fubjeds by the figures
they employed. Authors of greater note than,
thofe which are there quoted , have , at times ,
fallen into this error. Archbifiiop Tillotfon,
for inftance, is fometimes negligent in his choice
of Metaphors ; as, when fpeaking of the day of
judgment, he defcribes the world, as "cracking
" about the fmners ears." Shakefpeare, whofe
imagination was rich and bold, in a much great-
er degree than it was delicate , often fails here.
The following , for example , is a grofs tranf-
greffion ; in his Henry V. having mentioned a
dunghill , he prefently raifes a Metaphor from
the fteam of it; and on a fubjed; too, that
naturally led to much nobler ideas:

And thofe tlia.t leave? their valiant bones in France ^^
Dying like men , though buried in your dunghills ,
They fhall be fam'd •, for there the fun fhall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven.

Ad. IV. Sc. 3.

In the third place , as Metaphors fhould be
drawn from objects of fome dignity, fo particu-.
lar care ihould be taken that the refemblance,

Z 4

344 M E T A P H O R.

Jy E c T. -whicli is the foundation of the Metaphor, be
• XV^ clear and perfpicuous , not far-fetched , nor
difficult to difcover. The tranfgreflion of this
rule makes, what are called harfli or forced
Metaphors, which are always difpleafnig , be-
caufe they puzzle the reader , and , inftead of
illuftrating the thought, render it perplexed and
intricate. With Metaphors of this kind , Cowley
abounds. He, and forac of the writers of his age,
feem to have confidered it as the perfection of
wit, to hit upon likenefifes between objeds
which no other perfon could have difcovered ;
and, at the fame time, to purfue thofe Metaphors
fo far, that it requires fome ingenuity to follow
them out, and comprehend them. This makes
a Metaphor refemble an senigma ; and is the very
reverfe of Cicero's rule on this head: "Verecunda
" debet effe tranflatio ; ut deduda effe in alienum
■' locum , non irruiffe , atque ut voluntarie non vi
*' veniffe videatur*" How forced and obfcure,
for inftance , are the following verfes of Cowley,
fpeaking of his miftrefs :

^Co to her ftubborn heart , if once mine come
Into the felf-fame room ,

* " Every Metaphor Ihould be modeft , fo that it may
" carry the appearance of having been led , not of having
" forced itfelf into the place of that word whofe room it
*' occupies ; that it may feem to have come thither of its
" own accord , and not by conltraint. " De Ora.tpre ,
L, 111. c, 53.

METAPHOR. 345

Twill tear and blow np all Avithin, L E C T.

Like a Granada, fliot into a magazine. XV.

Then fliall love keep the afhes and torn parts ,
Of both our broken hearts ;

Shall out uf both one new one make ;
From her's th' alloy , from mine the metal take ;
For of her heart , he from the flames will find
But little left behind ;

Mine only will remain entire ,
No drofs was there to perifh in the fire.

In this manner he addrefies fleep:

In, vain, thou drovvfy God, I thee invoke^

For thou who doft from fumes arife.

Thou who man s foul doft overfhade ,

With a thick cloud by vapours made ;
Canft have no power to fhut his eyes ,
NX^hofe flame's fo pure , that it fends up no fmok<?.
Yet how do tears but from fome vapours rife?

Tears that bevvfinter all my year ;
The fate of Egypt I fuftain ,
And never feel the dew of rain ,

From clouds which in the head appear :

But all my too much m,oifture owe
To overflowings of the heart below *.

Trite and common refemblances fhould indeed
be avoided in our Metaphors. To be new , and

* See an excellent critlcifm on this fort of metaphyfical
poetry , in Dr. Jolinfon's Life of Cowley.

346 M E T A P II O R.

L E c T. not vulgar , is a beauty. But when tlicy are
XV. fetched from fome likencfs too remote, and lying
too far out of the road of ordinary thought ,
then , befides their obfcurity , they have alfo the
difadvantage of appearing laboured , and as the
French call it, "recherche," whereas Metaphor,
like every other ornament , lofes its whole grace ,
when it does not feem natural and eafy.

It is but a bad and ungraceful foftening ,'
which writers fometimes ufe for a harfh meta-
phor, when they palliate it with the expreffion ,
cs it were. This is but an awkward parenthefis ;
and Metaphors , which need this apology of an
as it -were, had, generally , be better omitted.
Metaphors , too , borrowed from any of the
fciences , efpecially fuch of them as belong to
particular profeffions , are almofl always faulty
by their obfcurity.

In the fourth place, it muft be carefully at-
tended to, in the condud: of Metaphors, never
to jumble metaphorical and plain language toge-
ther ; never to conftrud; a period fo , that part
of it muft be underftood metaphorically , part
literally : v/hich always produces a moft dif-
agreeable confufion. Inftances J which are but too
frequent , even in good authors , will make this
rule, and the reafon of it, be clearly underftood.
In Mr. Pope's tranflation of the Odyffey , Pene-
lope , bewailing the abrupt departure of her fo.a
Telemachus , is made to fpeak thus :

Long to ray joys my deareft Lord is loft.
His country's buckler , and the Grecian boaft :

METAPHOR. 347

Now from my fond embrace , by tempefts torn , L E c T.

Our other colunm of the ftate is borne : -^V.

Nor took a kind adieu , nor fought confent * !

IV. i)6o.

Here in one line , her fon is figured as a column;
and in the next , he returns to be a perfon , to
whom it belongs to take adieu, and to afk con-
fent. This is inconfiftent. The Poet fhould either
have kept himfelf to the idea of a Man , in the
literal fenfe ; or, if he figured him by a Column,
he fhould have afcribed nothing to him but
"svhat belonged to it. He was not at liberty to
afcribe to that Column the adions and proper-
ties of a Man. Such unnatural mixtures render
the imag€ indiftincl; leaving it to waver, in our
conception, between the figurative and the literal
fenfe. Horace's rule , which he applies to Charac- -

ters, fhould be obferved by all writers who deal
in Figures :

-Servetur ad imum ,

Oralis ab incepto proceiTerit, et fibi conftet.

Mr. Pope, elfewhere, addreffing him.felf to the

King , fays ,

* la the original , there is no allufion to a Column j
and the- metaphor is rightly fupported :

H TTffv ij.iv TTOiTiv £cO-?vOv DCTTdiXsfrx 5v>y.o7\:cvrx ^

34S M E T A P H O R.

I. E c T. To thee the World its prefent homage pays ,
XV. The harveft early, but mature the praife.

This, though not fo grofs , is a fault, however,:
of the fame kind. It is plain , that, had not the]
rhyme mifled hirai to the choice of an improper
phrafe , he would have faid ,

The harveft early, but mature the crop:

And fo would have continued the figure which
he had begun. Whereas, by dropping it unfinilh-
ed, and by employing the literal word, proif'e ,
when we were expecting fomethmg that related'
to the Harveft , the figure is broken , and the
two members of the fentence have^ no proper
eorrefpondent with each other :

The Harvejl early , but mature the Praife.

The Works of Offian abound with beautiful
and corred: Metaphors; fuch as that on a Hero:
" In peace, thou art the Gate of Spring; in war,
" the Mountain Storm." Or this , on a Woman:
" She was covered with the Light of Beauty;
" but her heart was the Houfe of Pride. " They
afford , however , one inllance of the fault we
are now cenfuring : " Trothal went forth with
. " the Stream of his people', but they met a Rock:
" for Fingal flood unmoved ; broken they rolled
" back from his fide. Nor did they roll in fafety;
" the fpear of the King purfued their flight."

M E T A P H O R. 349

At the beginning , the Metaphor is very beautiful. L e c t
The Stream , the unmoved Rock, the Waves XV,
roJhng back broken, are expreffions employed in
the proper and conliftent language of Figure ; but/
in the end , when we are told , " they did not
" roll in fafety , becaufe the fpear of the King
,5 purfued their flight," the literal meaning is
improperly mixed with the Metaphor : they are
at one and the fame time , prefented to us as
reaves thatro//, and men that may be purfued and
Tfoundcd with a fpear. If it be faulty to jumble
together, in this manner, metaphorical and plain
language , it is ffcill more fo ,

In the fifth place , to make two different
Metaphors meet on one object. This is what
is called mixed Metaphor , and^is indeed one
of the groffefb abufes of this figure ; fuch as
Shakefpeare's expreffion, " to take arms againft a
" fea of troubles. " lliis makes a moft unnatural
medley , and confounds the imagination entirely.
Ouinciilian has fufficiently guarded us againft it;
" Id imprimis eft cuftodiendum , ut quo genere
" coeperis tranflationis , hoc finias. Multi autem v:^
33 cum initium a tempeftate fumferunt , incendio
3, aut ruina liniunt; quse eft inconfequentia rerum
35 fcediffima*. " Obferve , for inftance , what an
inconfiftent groupe of objeds is brought together

' * " We mull be particularly attentive to end with the
" fame kind of Metaphor with which we have begun.
" Some , when they begin the figure with a Tempell ,
*' conclude it with a conflagration ; which forms a fhameful
*' incoiififtency. "

5D^

METAPHOR.

L E c T. by Shakefpeare , in the following paffnge of tht
XV. Tempcft ; fpeaking of perfons recovering their
judgment after the enchantment , which held
them 3 was diffolved :

The charm diirolves apace ,

And as die morning fteals upon the night ^
Melting the darknefs, fo their rifing fenfes
Begin to chafe the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reafon. —

So many ill-forted things are here joined , that
the mind can fee nothing clearly ; the morning
Jlealing upon the darknefs, and- at the fame time '
melting it ; the fenfes of men chafing fumes ; kjna-
rant fumes ^ ?tnd fumes that mantle. So again in Ro-
meo and Juliet :

^ . ^g glorious ^

As is a winged meifenger from heaven ^
Unto the white upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals , that fell back to gaze on him ,
When he beftrides the lazy pacing clouds ,
And fails upon the bofom of the air.

Here , the Angel is reprefented , as , at one mo-
ment, hejlriding the clouds , ?ind failing upon the
air; and upon the bofom of the air too; which
forms fuch a confufed pidure , that it is impof-
fible for any imagination to comprehend it.

More corred writers than Sliakefpeare, fome-
times fall into this error of mixing Metaphors.

METAPHOR. 351

It is furprifing how the following inaccuracy L E c T,
fliould have efcaped Mr. Addifon , in his Letter XV.
from Italy :

■ I bridle in my ftriiggling mufe with pain ,
That longs to launch into a bolder ftrain *.

The mufe, figured as a horfe, may be bridled;
but when we fpeak of launching ^ we make it a
fliip ; and, by no force of imagination, can it
be fuppofed both a horfe and a fliip at one
moment; bridled, to hinder it horn launching. The
fame Author , in one of his numbers in the
Spedator , fays , " There is not a fmgle view
" of human nature , which is not fufficient to
" extinguifh the feeds of pride." Obferve the
incoherence of the things here joined together,
making " a view extinguifli , and extinguifii
" feeds. "

Horace alfo , is incorrect, in the following
palfage :

Urit 'enim fulgore fuo qui pr^gravat artes
Infra fe pofitas. '■

Vrit qui pragravat. — He dazzles who bears
down with his weight ; makes plainly an incon-
fiftent mixture of metaphorical ideas. Neither can
this other paffage be altogether vindicated :

* In my obfervation on this paffage , I find , that I had
coincided with Dr. Johnfon , who pafles a. fimilar cenfure
upon it , in his life of Addifon.

dD-J

METAPHOR.

L £ c T. Ah! quanta laboras in Charybdi,

XV. Digne puer , meliore fiamma !

Where a whirlpool of water , Chary bdis, is iaicl
to be a flame, not good enough for this young
man; meaning, that he was unfortunate in the
objedl of his paffion. Flame is , indeed , become
almoft a literal word for the paffion of love ; but
as it ftill retains , in fome degree , its figurative
power , it fhould never have been ufed as fyno-
nymous with water , and mixed with it in the
fame Metaphor. When Mr. Pope { Eloifa to
Abelard) fays ,

All then is full , poiTefling ahd pofTefi: ,
No craving void lefc aking in the breaft;

A void may, metaphorically , be faid to crave f

but can a void be faid to ake ?

A GOOD rule has been given for examining

the propriety of Metaphors , when we doubt

whether or not they be of the mixed kind;

namely , that we fhould try to form a pidure

upon them , and confider how the parts would

agree, and what fort of figure the whole would

prefent , when delineated with a pencil. By this

means, we fhould become fenfible , whether in-

confiftent circumftances were mixed , and a mon-

ftrous image thereby produced , as in all thofe

faulty inftances , I have now been giving ; or

whether the objedl was, all along, prefented iii

one natural and confiftent point of view.

As
1

METAPHOR.

353

As Metaphors ought never to be mixed , fo, L e c T.
in the fixth place , we fliould avoid crowding XV.
them togeth -r on the fame objedl. Suppofmg each
of the Metaphors to be preferved diftincl, yet,
if they be heaped on one another , they produce
a confufion fomewhat of the fame kind with the
mixed Metaphor. We may judge of this by the
following paffage from Horace ;

Motum ex Metello confule civiciim ,
Bellique caufas , et vitia , et modos y

Ludumque fortune , gravefque

Principum amicitias , & arma
Nonduni expiatis imcla cruoribus ,
Periculofe plenum opus aleae ,

Tradla^ , et incedis per ignes

Suppofitos cineri dolofo *.

Lib. 2. I,

This paffage, though very poetical , is, howeverj

* Of warm commotions , wrathful jars ,

The growing feeds of civil v/ars ;

Of double fortune's cruel games ,

The fpecious means , the private aims 5
And fatal friendfliips of the guilty great,
Alas ! how fatal to the Romaij ftate !

Of mighty legions late fubducd ,

And arms with Latian blood emtru*d;

Yet unatoned ( a labour vaft !

Doubtful the die , and dire the cail ! )

You treat adventurous , and incautious tread
On fires wida faidilefs embers overfpread. FranCIS.

Vol. L a a -

60'-

METAPHOR.

L E c T. harfli , an.d obfcure ; owing to no other caufc
Xy. but this, that three diftind (Metaphors are crowd-
ed together, to defcribe the difficulty of Pollio's
writing a hiftory of the civil wars. Firfi: ,
" Tradlas arma unifta cruoribus nondum ex-
" piatis; " next, " Opus plenum periculofae alese;"
and then ; " Incedis per ignes fiippofitos dolofo
" cineri. " The mind . has difficulty in pafling
readily through fo many different views given it,
in quick fucceffion , of the Jiime objed;.

THh only other rule concerning Metaphors
which I fliall add;, in the feventh place, is , that
they be not too far purfued. If the refcrablance ,
on which the figure is founded , be long dwelt
\ upon, and carried into all its minute circum-
ftances , we make an allegory inftead of a meta-
phor; we tire the reader , who foon wearies of
this play of fancy ; and we render our difcourfe
obfcure. This is called , ftraining a Metaphor.
Cowley deals in this to excefs; and to this error
is owing, in a great meafure, that intricacy and
harlhnefs , in his figurative Language , which 1
before remarked. Lord Shaftfbury, is fometimes
guilty of purfuing his Metaphors too far. Fond,
to a high degree, of every decoration of ftyle,
when once he had hit upon a figure that pleafed
him , he was extremely loth to part with it.
Thus, in his advice to an author, having taken
up foliloquy, or meditation, under the Metaphor
of a proper method of evacuation for an ailthor,
he purfues this fVlctaphor through feveral pages.
under all the forms " of difcharging crudities ]

METAPHOR. 355

^* throwing off froth and fcum , bodily operation, L e c Xi
" taking phyfic , curing indigeftion , giving vtnt XV.
" to choler , bile , flatulencies , and tumuurs i "
till at laft , the idea becomes naufeous. Dr.
Young alfo often trefpafles in the fame w.\y. The
merit , however , of this writer , in hgunuive
Language, is great, and deferves to be remark-
ed. Nov/nter, ancient or modern , had a ftr^usier
imagination than Dr. Young , or one more fertile
in figures of every kind. His Metaphors are often
new , and often natural and be.mtiful. But, as
his imagination was ftrong and rich, rather than
delicate and corredl , he fometimes gives it too
loofe reins. Hence , in his Night Thoughts,
there prevails an obfcurity , and a hardnefs in
his ftyle. The Metaphors are frequently too bold,
and frequently too far purfued ; the reader is daz-
zled rather than enlightened ; and kept conftantly
on the ftretch to comprehend , and keep pa<:e
v/ith, the author. We may obferve , for inftance,
how the following Metaphor is fpun out :

Thy thoughts are vagabonds ; all outward bound ,
Midft fands and rocks , and ftorms to cruife for pleafure ^
If gained , dear bought ; and better mifs'd than gain'd.
Fancy and fenfe , from an . infecled fhore ,
Thy cargo brings ; and peftilence the prize ;
Then fuch the thirft , infatiable thirft ,
By fond indulgence but inflam'd the more ,
Fancy flill cruifes , when poor fenfe is tired.

A a 3

356 METAPHOR.

L E c T. Speaking of old age , he fiiys , it flioiild
XV.

"Walk thoughtful on the filent folemn fhorc
Of that vail ocean , it muft fail fo foon ;
And put good works on board ; and wait the wind
That fliortly blows us into worlds unknown.

The two fii ft lines are luicommonly beautiful ;
" walk thoughtful on the filent, &c. " but when
he continues the Metaphor , to " putting good
" works on board , and. waiting the wind , " it
plainly becomes ftrained , and links in dignity.
Of all the Englifli authors , i know none fo hap-
^py in his Metaphors as Mr. Addifon. His imagin-
ation was neither fo rich nor fo ftrong as Dr.
Young's ; but far more chafte and delicate. Per-
fpicuity, natural grace and eafe, always diftinguifli
his figures. They are neither harlh nor ftrained ;
they never appear to have been ftudied or fought
after ; but feem to rife of their own accord from
the fubjed, and conftantly embelliih it.

I HAVE now treated fully of the Metaphor,
and the rules that ftiould govern it , a part of
^ the dodlrine of ftyle fo important, that it requi-
red particular illuftration. I have only to add a
few words concerning Allegory.

An Allegory may be regarded as a continued
X Metaphor ; as it is the reprefentation of fome
one thing by another that referables it, and that
is made to ftand for it. Thus in Prior's Henry
and Emma , Emma in the following allegorical
manner defcribes her conftancy to Henry :

METAPHOR. 35?

Did I but purpole to embark v/ith thee L E c t.

On the fniooth furface of a fummer's fea , XV.

While gentle zephyrs play with profperous gules ,

And fortune's favour fills the fwelling fails ;

But would forfake the fiiip , and make the fliore ,

\v'hen the winds v/hiftle , and the tempefts' roar?

We may take alfo from the Scriptures a very*
fine example of an Allegory, in the 8oth Pfiilm;
%vhere the people of Ifrael are reprefented under
the image of a vine , and the figure is fupported
throughout with great corrednefs and beauty;
" Thou hafi; brought a vine out of Egypt, thou
" haft caft out the heathen, and planted it. Thou
" preparedft room before it, and didft caufe it
" to take deep root , and it filled the land. The
" hills were covered with the lliadow of it; and
" the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars.
" She fent out her boughs into the fea, and her
" branches into the river. A^^hy haft thou broken
" down her hedges, fo that all they which pafs
^ by the way do pluck her ? The boar out of
" tlie wood doth wafte it ; and the wild beafb
" of the field doth devour it. Return , we be-
" feech the'e , O God of Hofts , look down from
'" Heaven , and behold , and yifit this vine ! ''
Here there is no circumftance ( except .perhaps
one phrafe at the beginning, "thou haft caft
" out thp heathen,") that does not ftridly agree
to a^yi^ie , whilft, at the fame time, the whole
quadrates happily with theJewifh ftate reprefent.
ed by this figure. This is the firft and pringi-

A a ;;

358 METAPHOR.'

L E c T, pal requifite in the conduifl of an Allegory, tnat
XV. the figurative and the literal meaning be not
mixed incoRfiflently together. For inftance ,
inllead of defcribing the vine, as wafted by the
boar from the wood, and devoured by the wild
beaft of the field, had the Ffalmift faid , it was
affiicled by heathens , or overcome by enemies
(wliich is the real meaning), this would have
ruined the Allegory , and produced the fame
confufion , of which I gave examples in [VI e-
taphors, when the figurative and literal fenfe
are mixed and jumbled together. Indeed , the
fame rule<: that were given for Metaphors , may
alfo be .applied to Allegories, on account of the
affinity they bear to each other. The only ma-
terial difference between them, befides the one
being fhcrt, and the other being prolonged, is, that
a Metaphor always exp'ains itfelf by the words
that are cQnne(?ted with it in their proper and natu-
ral meaning-, as when I fay, " Achilles was a Li-
on;" an " able Minifler is the Pillar of the State. "
My Lion and my Pillar are fqfficiently interpreted
by the mention of Achilles and the Miniftcr,
v/hich I jom t^ them ; but an Allegory is , or
may be , allow'ed to fland more difconnedcd
with the literal meaning ; the interpretation not
fo diredly pointed out , but left to our ov/n
refledlion.

Allegories were a favourite method of de-
livering inftruclions in ancient times ; for what
we call Fables or Parables are no other than Al-
legories ; where, by words and acTiions attributed

METAPHOR. 359

to beafts or inanimate objeds , the difpofitions L e c t.
of men are figured ; and what we call the moral, XV.
is the unfigured fenfe or meaning of the Allegory.
An ^^nigma or Riddle is alfo a fpccies of Alle-
gory ; one thing reprefented or imaged by ano-
ther; bur purpofely wrapt up under fo many cir-
cumftances , as to be rendered obfcure. Where a
riddle is not intended, it is always a fault in Al-
legory to be too dark. The meaning fliould be
eafily feen through the figure employed to
fiiadow it. However the proper mixture of light
and ihade in fuch compofitions , the exadl adjuft-
ment of all the figurative circumftances with the
literal fenfe, fo as neither to lay the meaning too
bare and open, nor to cover and wrap it up too
much, has ever been found an affair of great
nicety ; and there are few fpecies of compoiition
in which it is more difficult to write fo as to
pleafe and command attention, than in Allegories.
In fome of the vifions of the Spedla:t6r , we have
examples of Allegories very h?.ppily executed.

A a 4

LECTURE XVI.

HYPERBOLE - PERSONIFICATION
APOSTROPHE,

Lkc t. J. HEnextfigureconcerning which lam to treat J
^VI. is called Hyperbole , or Exaggeration. Itconfiftsin
magnifying an objed beyond its natural bounds. It
may be confidered fometimes as a trope, andfome-
times as a figure of thought : and here indeed the dif-
tindion between thefe two Claire's begins not to be
clear, nor i^..h- of any importance that we Ihoiild
have recourfe to metaphyficai fubtikies , in order
to keep them diffcind. Whether we call it trope cr
figure , it is plain that it is a mode of fpeech
which hath fome foundation in nature. For in
all languages , even in common converfation ,
hyperbolical expreffions very frequently occur ;
as fwift as the wind; as white as the fnow , and,
the like; and our common forms of corapHment,
are almoft all of them extravagant Hypei boles.
If any thing be remarkably good or great in its
kind, we are inftantly ready to add to it fome
exaggerating epithet; and to make it the greatefl
QX bcft ^ve ever faw. The imagination has ahvays

H T P E R ,B O L E. 36E

a tendency to gratify itfelf , by magnifying its L e c T.
prefent obiecl, and carrying it to excefs. More XVI.
or lefs of this hyperbolical turn will prevail in
language, according to the livelinefs of imagina-
tion among the people who fpeak it. Flence
yonng people deal always much in Hyperboles.
Hence the language of the Orientals was far more
hyperbolical than that of the Europeans , who
are of more phlegmatic , or , if you pleafe , of
more corred: imagination. Hence , amiong all
writers in early times, and in the rude periods
of fociety , we may expedt this figure to abound.
Greater experience , and more cultivated fociety,
abate the warmth of imagination, and chaften the
manner tof cxpreffion.

The exaggerated expreffions to which our ears
are accuftomed in converfation , fcarcely ftrike
us as Hyperboles. In an inftant we make the
proper abatement, and underftand them accord-
ing to theirjufl value. But when there is fome-
. thing ftriking and unufual in the form of a
hyperbolical expreffion, it then rifes into a figure
of fpeech' which drav/s our attention: and here
it is necelfary to cbierve , that unlefs the reader's
imagination be in fuch a Rate as difpofes it to
rife and fwell along with the hyperbolical expref-
fion , he is always hurt and offended by it. For
a fort of difagreeable force is put upon him ; he
is required to ilrain and exert his fancy, when
he feel> no inchnation to make any fuch effort.
Hence the Hyperbole is a figure of difficult ma-
nagement ; and ought ;ieither to be frequently

362 HYPERBOLE.

L E c T. ufed , nor long dwelt, npon. On fome occafions,
XYI. it is undoubtedly proper; being, as was before
obferved , the natural ftyle of a fprightly and
heated imagination ; but when Hyperboles are
unfeafonable , or too frequent, they render a
coinpofition frigid and unaffeding. They are the
refource of an author of feeble imagination ; of
one, defcribing objedis which either want native
dignity in themfelves ; or whofe dignity he can-
not fliow by defcribing them fimply , and in their
juft proportions , and is therefore obliged to reft
upon tumid and exaggerated expreffions.

Hyperboles are of two kinds; either fuch as
are employed in defcription , or fuch as are fng-
gefted by the warmth of paffion. The beft by
far, are thofe which are the efFed; of pafTion; for
if the imagination has a tendency to magnify its
objedls beyond their natural proportion, paflQon
poiTeffes this tendency in a vaftly ftronger degree;
and therefore not only excufes the moft daring
. figures , but very often renders them natural and
juft. All paffions, without exception, love, ter-
ror, amazement, indignation, anger, and even
grief, throw the mind into confufion , aggravate
their objeds , and of courfe prompt a hyperbo-
lical ftyle. Hence the following fentira.ents of
Satan in Milton , as ftrongly as they are de-
fcribed , contain nothing but what is natural and
proper ; exhibiting the pidure of a mind agitated
with rage and defpair:

Me raiferable ! which way fliall I fly v

Infinite wrath , and infinite defpair ?

HYPERBOLE. 363

Which way I fly is Hell , myfelf am Hell ; L E C T.

And In the lowefl; deep , a lower deep XVI.

Still threat'ning to devour nie , opens wide ,
To which the Hell I fuller feems a Heaven.

B. iv. V. 75.

In fimple defcription, though Hyperboles are not
excluded, yet they muft be ufed with more cau-
tion, and require more preparation, in order to
make the mind reliili them. Either the objcd de-
fcribed muft be of that kind , v/hich of itfelf feizes
the fancy ftrongly, and difpofes it to ran beyond
the bounds ; fomething vaft , furprifmg, and new .
or the writer's art muft be exerted in heating the
fancy gradually, and preparing it to think highly
of the objecl which he intends to exaggerate.
When a Poet is defcribing an earthquake or a
ftorm , or when he has brought us into the midft
of a battle . we can bear ftrong Hyperboles with-
out difpleafure. But when he is defcribing only
a woman in grief, it is mipoffible not to be dif-
«:ufted with fuch wild exaeQ:eration as the foi-

O »_ CD

lowing, in one of our dramatic Poets:
I found her on the floor

In all the ftorm of grief , yet beautiful ;

Pouring forth tears at fuch a lavifli rate ,

That were the world on fire , they might have drown'd

The wrath of Heaven , and quench'd the mighty ruin

Lee.

This is mere bombaft. The perfon herfelf who
was under .the diftrading agitations of grief ,

364 HYPERBOLE.

L E c T. might be permitted to hyperbolize flrongly; but
XVI. the ipedator defcribing her, cannot be allowed
an equal liberty : for this plain reafon , that
the one is fuppofed to utter the fentiments of
paffion, the other fpeaks only the language of
defcription , which is always, according to the
didates of nature , on a lower tone: a diftmdion,
which however obvious , has not been attended
to by many writers.

How far a Hyperbole, fuppofmg it properly
introduced, may be fafely carried without over-
•ftretching it; what is the proper meafure and
boundary of this figure, cannot, as far as 1 know,
be afcertained by any precife rule. Good fenfe
and juft tafte muft determine the point, beyond
which, if we pafs , we become extravagant. Lu-
can may be pointed out as an author apt to be
cxceffive in his Hyperboles. Among the compli-
ments paid by the Roman Poets to their Em-
perors, it had become fafliionable to afk them,
what part of the heavens they would chufe for
their habitation , after they fhould have become
Gods? Virgil had already carried this fuiFiciently
far in his addrefs to Auguftus :

" Tibi brachia contrahit ingens

Scorpius ,- et Cceli jiifca plus parte relinqtiit *. "

Geors

* " The Scorpion ready to receive thy laws ,

" Yields half his region , and contrads his paws."

Dryden.

HYPERBOLE. 365

But this did not fuffice Lucan. Refolved to out- L e c T.
to ail his predeceffors, in a like addrefs to Nero, XVI.
he very gravely befeeches him not to chufe his
place near either of the poles, but to be fure to
occupy juft the middle of the heavens , lefl;, by
going either to one fide or other, his weight
iliould overfet the univerfc:_

Sed neque m Arclco fedem tibi kgeris orbe

Nee polus advcrfi caiidus qua mergitur auilri ;

iEtberis immenfi partem fi preiTeris uuarn

Sentiet axis onus. Librati pondera Coeli

Orbe tene medio f. PiiARS. I. 95.

Such thoughts as thefe, are what the French call
outres , and always proceed from a falfe fire of
genius. The Spanifh and African writers, as Ter-
tullian , Cyprian, Auguflin , are remarked for
being fond of them. As in that epitaph on Char-
les V. by a Spanilli writer :

Pro tumulo ponas orbem , pro tegmine coelum , -
Sidera pro facibus , pro lacrymis maria.

t But , oh ! whatever be diy Godhead great ,

Fix net in regions too remote t^iy feat ;

Nor deign thou near the frozen Rear to fliine

Nor where the fultry fouthern ftars decline.

Prefs not too much on any part the fphere ,

Hard were the talk thy weight divine to bear ;
• Soon would the axis feel the unufual load ,

And , groaning , bend beneath th'incumbent God ;

O'er the mid orb more equal flialt thou rife,

Aiid with a jufter balance fix the fkies. ROWB*

366 H Y P E Pv B O L E.

L E C T.

Sometimes they dazzle and impofe by their bold-
Xv'I. iiefs; but wherever reiifon and good fenfe are fo
much violated , there can be no true beauty.
Epigrammatic writers are frequently guilty in
this refpedl ; refting the whole merit of their
epigrams on fome extravagant hyperbohcal turn;
fuch as the following of Dr. Pitcairn's , upon Hol-
land's being gained from the ocean i

Tellurem fecere Dii ; fua littora Belg^e ;

Ininienfseqiie molis opus utrumque fuit ;
Dii vacuo fparfas glomerarunt sthere terras ,

Nil ibi quod operi poffit obeffe fuit.
At Belgis , maria & coeli naturaque rerum

Obflitit ; obftantes hi domuere Dcos.

So much for the Hyperbole. We proceed noW
to thofe figures which lie altogether in the
thought; where the words are taken in their com-
mon and literal fenfe.

Among thefe , the firft place is unqueftionably
due to Perfonification , or that figure by which
we attribute life and action to inanimate objed;s.
The technical term for this is Profopopceia ; but
as Perfonification is of the fame import , and
more allied to our own language , it will be bet-
ter to ufe this word.

It is a figure , the ufe of which is very exten-
five , and its foundation laid deep in human na-
ture. At firft view , and when confidered ab^
ftraclly, it would appear to be a figure of the lit-
mofl boldnefs , and to border on the extravagant

PERSONIFICATION. 367

and ridiculous. For what can feem more remote L e c T.
from the tracl of reafonabie thought, than to XVI.
fpeak of ftones and trees, and fields and rivers,
as if they were living creatures , and to attribute
to them thought and fenfation , affediions and
actions ? One might imagine this to be no more
than childifli conceit, which no perfon of tafte
could reliili. In Fad, however the cafe is very
different. No fuch ridiculous effed; is produced
by perfonification , when properly employed; on
the contrary, it is found to be natural and agree-
able ; nor is any very uncomm.on degree of paf-
fion required , in order to make us relifh it. All
poetry, even in its moft gentle and humble forms,
abounds with it. From profe , it is far from being
excluded; nay, in common converfation , very
frequent approaches are made to it. When we
fay, the ground thirjfs for rain , or the earth fmiles
With plenty; when we fpeak of ambition being
refilefs , or a difeafe being de.ce.it ful^ fuch expfef-
fions fhow the facility with which the mind can
accommodate the properties of living creatures to
things that are inanimate, or to abRrad concep-
tions of its own forming.

Indeed , it is very remarkable, that there is a
wonderful pronenefs in human nature to animate
all objeds. Whether this arifes from a fort of
affimilating principle, from a propenfion to fpread
a refemblance of ourfelves over all other things,
or from whatever other caufe it arifes , fo it is ,
that almoft every emotion, which in the ieaft
agitates the mind, bellows upon its objed a mo-

368 PERSONIFICATION.

L E c T. mentary idea of life. Let a man , by an unwary
XVI. ftep, fprain his ankle, or hurt his foot upon a
ftone , and, in the ruffled difcompofed moment,
he will, fometimes , feel himielf dil'pofedto break
the ftone in pieces , or to utter pailionate expref-
fions againft it , as if it had done him an injury.
If one has been long accuftomed to a certain fet
of objecls, v/hich have made a ftrong impreffion
on his imagination; as to a houfe , where he has
paffed many agreeable years; or to fields, and
trees, and mountains, among which lie has often
walked with the greateft delight; when he is ob-
liged to part with them, elpecially if he has no
profpecl of ever feeing them again , he can fcarce
avoid having fomewhat or the £\me feeling as
Avhen he is leaving old friends. They feem
cndov/ed with life. They become objeds of his
affection; and, in the moment of his parting,
it fcarce feems abfurd to him , to give vent to
his feeling in words, and to take a formal adieu.

So llrong is that impreffion of life v/hich is
made upon us , by the more magnificent and
ftriking objcdls of nature efpecially , that I doubt
not, in the leaft , of this having been one caufe
of the multiplication of divinities in the Heathen
world. Dryads and Naiads , the Genius of the
wood , and the God of the river , were , in men
of lively imaginations, in the early ages of the
"world , eafily grafted upon this turn of mind.
When their favourite rural objeds had often been
animated in their fancy, it was an eafy tranfition
to attribute to them forne real divinity , fome

unfcen

PERSONIFICATION. 369

unfeen power or genius which inhabited them , L e c T,
or in fome peculiar manner belonged to them. XYL
Imagination was highly gratified , by thus gaining
fomewhat to reft upon with more ftability ; and
when belief coincided fo much with imagination,
very flight caufes would be fufficient to eftabliih it.

From this dedudion , may be eafily feen how
It comes to pafs , that perfonirication makes fo
great a figure in all compofitions , where imagin-
ation or paffion have any concern. On innumer-
able occafions , it is the very Language of ima-
gination and paflion, and, therefore, deferves to
b? attended to , and examined with peculiar care.
There are three different degrees of this figure ;
which it is neceffary to remark and diftinguifli,
in order to determine the propriety of its ufe.
The firft is , when fome of the properties or
qualities of living creatures are afcribed to inani-
mate objeds ; the fecond , when thofe inanimate
objeds are introduced as ading like fuch as have
life; and the third, when they are reprefented ,
either as fpeaking to us , or as liftening to wha^
we fay to them.

The firft , and loweft degree of this figure ,
confifts in afcribing to inanimate objeds fome"
of the qualities of living creatures. Where this is
done , as is moft commonly the cafe, in a word,
or two , and by way of an epithet added to the
objed , as , "a raging ftorm , a deceitful difeafe ,
,, a cruel difafter, " &c. it raifes the ftyle fo little ,
that the humbleft difcourfe will admit it without
any force. This , indeed , is fuch an obfcure

Vol. I. Bb

aro PERSONIFICATION.

L E c T, degree of Perfonificatlon , that one may doubt

XVI. whether it deferves the name, and might not be

claded with fimple Metapjiors , which efcape in a

" manner unnoticed. Happily employed, however,

it fometimes adds beauty and fprightlinefs to an

expreffion ; as in this hue of Virgil :

Aut conjurato defcendens Dacus ab Iftro.

Geor. 11. 474.

Where the perfonal epithet, conjurato^ applied to
the river Ijiro^ is infinitely more poetical than if
it had been applied to the perfon, thus:

Aut conjuratus defcendens Dacus ab Iftro.

A very little tafte will make any one feel the
difference between thefe two lines.

T H t next degree of this figure is , when we
introduce inanimate objeds ading like thofe that
have life. Here we rife a ftep higher , and the
Perfonification becomes fenfible. According to the
nature of the adlion , which v/e attribute to thofe
inanimate objeds , and the particularity with which
we defcribc it , fuch is the ffrength of the figure.
When purfued to any length , it belongs only
to ftudied harangues , to highly figured and
eloquent difcourfe ; when {lightly touched , it
may be admitted into fubjecls of lefs elevation.
Cicero, for inftance, fpeaking of the cafes where
killing another is lawful in felf- defence , ufes the
following words: " Aliquando nobis gladius ad
„ occidendum hominem ab ipfis porrigit'urlegibus. ''
(Orat. pro Milone. ) The expreffion is happy.
The laws are perfonified, as reaching forth their

PERSONIFICATION. 3^1

liand to give us a fword for putting one to death. L e g t.
Such fllort perfonifications as thefe may be ad- XVI.
mitted , even into moral treatifes , or works of
cool reaioning ; and, provided they be eafy and
not ftrained , and that v/e be not cloyed with
too frequent returns of them , they have a good
effed Oil ftylCj and render it both ftrong and
lively.

The genius of our Language gives us an
advantage in the ufe of this hgure. As, with us,
no fuBftantive nouns have gender , or are mafculine
and feminine, except the proper names of male
and female creatures ; by giving a gender to any
inanimate objed , or abftrad idea^ that is , in '

place of the pronoun it , ufmg the perfonal pro-
nouns, he or she, we prefently raife the ftyle ,
and begin perfonification. In folem^n difcourfe,
this can often be done to good purpofe , when
fpeaking of religion, or virtue, or our country,
or any luch objedl of dignity. I fiiall give a remark-
ably fine example , from a fermon of Bifhop
Sherlock's ^ where we fhall fee natural religion
beautifully perfonified , and be able to judge from
it , of the fpirit and grace ^vhich this figure,
when v/ell conduced , beflows on a difcourfe.
I mu ft take notice, at the fame time, that it is
an inftance of this figure, carried as far as profe,
even in its higheft elevation, will admit; and ^
therefore , fuited only to compofitions where the
great efforts of eloquence are allowed. The Author
is comparing together our Saviour and Mahomet:
" Go j '' fays he , "to your natural Religion ; lay

B b 2

373 PERSONIFICATION.

t E c T. " before her Mahomet , and his difciples , arrayed
XVI. *' in armour and blood , riding in triumph
" over the fpoils of thoufands who fell by
*' his vidorious fword. Show her the cities
" which he fet in flames , the countries which he
*' ravaged and deftroyed , and the miferaWe
*' diftrefs of all the inhabitants of the earth.
" When ihe has viewed him in this fcene , carry
■' her into his retirement; Ihow her the Prophet's
" chamber; his concubines and his wives; and
" let her hear him allege revelation , and a divine
" commiffion , to juftify his adultery and luft.
" When Ihe is tired with this profpecl , then fhow
" her the bleffed Jefus , humble and meek, doing
" good to all the fons of men. Let her fee him in
*' his moft retired privacies ; let her follow him to
*' the mount, and hear his devotions and fuppli-
" cations to God. Carry her to his table, to
" view his poor fare ; and hear his heavenly
" difcourfe. Let her attend him to the tribunal ,
" and confider the patience with which he endured
" the feoffs and reproaches of his enemies. Lead
her to his crofs; let her view him in the agony
" of death, and hear his laft prayer for his"* per-
" fecutors; Father, forgive them , for they knorv not
*' -what they do ! — When Natural Religion has
*' thus viewed both, afk her, Which is the Pro-
phet of God? But her anfwer we have already
*' had, when, fhe faw part of this fcene, through
" the eyes of the Centurion , who attended "at
!' the crofs. By him flie fpoke , and fa id , Truhj ,

PERSONIFICATION. 375

" this man -was the Son of God" * This is more Lest.
than elegant ; it is truly fublime. The whole XYI.
paffage is animated ; and the figure rifes at the
conclufion , when Natural Religion , who , before
was only a fpedlator , is introduced as fpeaking
by the Centurion's voice. It has the better effed:
too , that it occurs at the conclufion of a difcourfe,
where we naturally look for moft warmth and
dignity. Did Biihop Sherlock's fermons, or ,
indeed, any Englifli fermons M^hatever, afford us
many paffages equal to this, we fhould oftner
have recourfe to them for inftanees of the beauty
of Compofition.

Hitherto we have fpoken of profe ; in
poetry , Perfonifications of this kind are extremely
frequent , and are , indeed , the life and foul of
it. We exped to find every thing animated in
the defcriptions of a poet who has a lively fancy.
Accordingly Homer , the father and prince of
poets , is remarkable for the ufe of this figure.
War, peace, darts, fpcars, towns, rivers, every
thing , in lliort , is alive in his writings. The
fame is the cafe with Milton and Shakefpeare.
No Perfonification , in any author, is more ftrik-
ing , or introduced on a more proper occafion ,
than the following of Milton's , on occafion of
Eve's eating the forbidden fruit:

So faying , her rafh hand , in evil hour

Forth reaching to the fruit , Pnc pluck'd , fhe eat |

* Bifhop Sherlocks' Sermons, VoL I. Difc. ix.

B b 3

374 PERSONIFICATION.

I. E C T. Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her feat,
XVI, Sighing through all her works , gave figns of woe ,

That all was loft. B. ix, 7-80.

All the circumflances and ages of men , poverty,
riches, youth, old age , all the difpofitions and
paffions , melancholy, love, grief , contentment,
are capable of being perfonined in poetry, with
great propriety. Of this , we meet with frequent
examples in Milton's Allegro and Penferofo ,
Parnell's Hymn to Contentment , Thomfon's
Seafons , and all the good poets : nor , indeed ,
is it eafy to fet any bounds to Perfonifications
of this kind , in .poetry,

O N E of the greateft pleafures we receive from
poetry, is, to find ourfelves always in the midft
of our fellows, and to fee every thing thinking,
feeling , and ading , as we ourfelves do. This
is , perhaps , the principal charm of this fort of
figured llyle , that it introduces us into foclety
with ail nature , and interefts us , even in inanimate
objedts , by forming a connection between them
and us, through that fenfibility which it afcribes
to them. This is exempHfied in the following
beautiful paffage of Thomfon's Summer., wherein
the life which he beftows upon all nature , when
defcribing the effeds of the rifmg fun , renders
the fcenery uncommonly gay and interefting;

But yonder comes the powerful king of day
Rejoicing in the eaft. The leffening cloud ,
The kindling azure and the mountain's brim

PERSONIFICATION arS

Tipt with cTthereal gold , his near approach L E c T.

YVT
Betoken glad ^^^*

■ By thee refined ,

In brifker meafures , the relucent flreatn
Frifks o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt.
Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood ,
Softens at thy return. The defart joys
Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds.
Rude ruins glitter ; and the briny deep ,
Seen from fome pointed promontory's top 5
Refledls from every fludiuating wave ,
A glance extenfive as the day. — ■

The fame effedl is remarkable in that fine pafiagc
of Milton :

To the nuptial bower

I led her blufhing like the morn : all heaven,
And happy conftellations on that hour ,
Shed their felecteft influence ; the earth
Gave figns of gratulation , and each hill ;
Joyous the birds ; frefh gales and gentle airs
Whilpered it to the woods, and from their wings-
Flung rofe , flung odours from the fpicy Hirub.,

Difporting ,

B. VIII. V. ?io.

The third and higheft degree of this figure
remains to be mentioned, when inanimate objects
are introduced, not only as feeling and adling,
but as fpeaking to us , or hearing and liftening
when we addrefs ourfelves to them. This , though

B b 4

376 PERSONIFICATION.

t E c T. on feveral occafions far from being unnatural
XVI. is, however, more difficult in the execution,
than the other kinds of Perfonification. For this
is plainly the boldeft of all rhetorical figures ; it
is the ftyle of a ftrong paffion only; and, there-
fore never to be attempted , unlefs when the mind
is confiderably heated and agitated. A flight
Perfonification of fome inanimate thing , aclin^
as if it had life, can be relilhed by the mind , in
the midft of cool defcription , and when its ideas
are going on in the ordinary train. But it muft
be in a ftate of vioient emotion , and have departed
confiderably from its cojiimon trad; of thought,
before it can fo far realife the Perfonification of an
infenfible objed , as to con4eiveit liftening to whafe
we fay , or making any return to us. All ftrong paf-
fions, however, have a tendency to ufe this figure ;
not only love , anger , and indignation , but even
thofe which are feemingly more difpiriting, fuch
as, grief, remorfe, and melancholy. Fox ^It
paffions ftruggle for vent, and if they can find
no other objed, will, rather than be filent, pour
them.felves forth to woods , and rocks , and the
moft infenfible things; efpecially , if thefe be
any how conneded with the caufes and objeds
that have thrown the mind into this agitation.
Hence , in poetry , where the greateft liberty
is allowed to the Language of paffion , it is eafy
to produce many beautiful examples of this' figure.
Milton affords us aq extremely fine one , in
that moving and tender addrefs which Eve make^
to Paradjfe , juft before ffie is compelled to iaave iL

PERSONIFICATION %77

t)h ! unexpeded ftroke , worfc than of death ! LEST.

Muft I thus lenve thee , Paradife ? thus leave XVI,

Thee , native foil , thefe happy walks , and fhades ,
Fit haunt of Gods ! where I had hope to fpend
Q^uiet , though fad , the refpite of that day
That muft be mortal to us both. 0 flowers !
That never will in other climate grow.
My early vifitation , and my laft
At ev'n , which I bred up with tender hand
From the firft opening bud , and gave you names ^
Who now fhall rear you to the fun , or rank
Your tribes , and water from the anibrofial fount?

B. XL v. 268.

This is altogether the language of nature, and
of female paffion. It is obfervable , that all plain-
tive paflions are peculiarly prone to the ufe of
this figure. The conikplaints which Philocftetes ,
in Sophocles , pours out to the rocks and caves
of Lemnos , amidft the excefs of his grief and
defpair , are remarkably fine examples of it "*•'.

AvxK/Mio.uxi TTxprnri roig hu^otri , Sco,

" 0 mountains , rivers , rocks , and favage herds ,
" To you I fpeak ! to you alone , I now
" Mull breathe my farrows ! you are wont to heas
"My fad complaints , and I v/ill tell you all
" That I have fliffered from Achilles' fon ! "

Franklin.

378 PERSONIFICATION.

L E c T. And there are frequent examples , not in poetry

XVI. only, but in real life, of perfons, when juft about

to fuffer death, taking a paffionate farewell of

the fun , moon , and liars , or other fenfible ob-

jedls around them.

There are two great rules for the management
of this fort of Perfonification. The firft rule is ,
never to attempt it, unlefs when prompted by
ftrong paffion , and never to continue it when
the paffion begins to flag. It is one of thofe
high ornaments , which can only find place in
the moft warm and fpirited parts of compofition ;
and there , too , mufl be employed with modera-
tion.

The fecond rule is never to perfonify any ob-
jed in this way , but fuch as has fome dignity
in itfelf, and can make a proper figure in this
elevation to which we raife it. The obfervance
of this rule is required , even in the lower degrees
of Perfonification ; but ftill more , when an addrefs
is made to the perfonified objed. To addrefs
the corpfe of a deceafed friend, is natural; but
to addrefs the clothes which he wore, introduces,
mean and degrading ideas. So alfo , addreffing
the feveral. parts of one's body, as if they were
animated , is not congruous to the dignity of
paffion. For this reafon, I muft condemn the
following paffage , in a very beautiful Poem o£
Mr. Pope's, Eloifa to Abelard.

Dear fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd ,
^or pafs thefe lips in holy filence fealecf^

PERSONIFICATION. 379

Hide it , my heart , within that clofe difguife , L E C T.

"Where , mixed with Gods , his lov'd idea lies : XVI.

Oh ! write it not , my hand ! — his name appears
Already written — Blot it out , my tears ! , ,

Here are feveral different objecls and parts of the
body perfonified; and each of them are addreffed
or fpoken to ; let us confider wlLh what propriety.
The firft is, the name of Abelard : " Dear fatal
name! reft ever," &c. To this, no reafonable
objection can be made. For, as the name of a
perfon often ftands for the perfon himfelf , and
fuggefts the fame ideas , it can bear this Pcrfoni-
fication with fufiicient dignity. Next, Eloifa
fpeaks to herfelf; and perfonifies her heart for this
purpofe : " Hideit, my heart , \vithin that clofe ,"
&c. As the heart is a dignified part of the human
frame , and is often put for the mind , or affedions ,
this alfo may pafs without blame. But, when from
her heart fhe pafTes to her hand, and tells her hand
not to write his name, this is forced and unnatu^
ral ; a perfonified hand is low, and not in the
ftyle of true paffion: and the figure becomes flill
worfe, when, in the laft place, fee exhorts her
tears to blot out what her hand had written :
' Oh ! v^^rite it not ," &c. There is , in thefe
two lines, an air of epigrammatic conceit, which
native paffion never fuggefts ; and which is alto-
gether unfuitable to the tendernefs which breathes
through the reft of that excellent Poem.

In profe compofitions , this figure requires to
be ufed. with . ftili greater moderation and deli"

38o PERSONIFICATION.

L E e T. cacy. The fame liberty is not allowed to the
XVI. iinagination there , as in poetry. The fame aflift-
ances cannot be obtained for raifmg paffion to
its proper height by the force of numbers , and
the glow of ftyle. However , addrefles to inani-
mate objecls are not excluded from profe; but
have their place only in the higher fpecies of
oratory. A public Speaker may on fome occafions
very properly addrefs religion or virtue ; or his
native cQuntry, or fom.e city or province, which
has fuffered perhaps great calamities , or been
the fcene of fome memorable ad;ion. But we
mufk remember, that, as fuch addrelTes are among
the higheft efforts of eloquence, they fhould never
be attempted , unlefs by perfons of more than
ordinary genius. For if the orator f»ils in his defign
of moving our paflions by them , he is fure of being
laughed at. Of all frigid things , the moft frigid
RFC , the awkward and unfeafonable attempts fome-
times made towards fuch kinds of Ferfonitication ,
efpecially if they be long contiipued. We fee the
writer or fpeaker toiling and labouring , to exprefs
the language of fome paffion , which he neither
feels himfelf , nor can make us feel. We remain
not only cold , but frozen ; and are at full leifurc
to criticife on the ridiculous figure which the
perfonified obje6l makes , when we ought to have
been tranfported with a glow of enthufiafm.
Some of the French writers , particularly BofTuet
and Flechier , in their fermons and funeral orations,
have attempted and executed this figure , not
•without warmth and dignity. Their v/orks are

PERSONIFICATION. 381

exceedingly worthy of being confulted, for Inilances L e c t.
of this, and of fcveral other ornaments of ftyle. XVI.
Indeed the vivacity and ardour of the French
genius is more fuited to this animated kind of
oratory , than the more correct but more phleg,
matic genius of the Britifh,\vho in their profe-works
very rarely attempt any of the high figures
of eloquence*. So much for Perfonifications or
Profopopoeia , in all its different forms.

* In the "Oraifons funebres de M. Bofluet, " which fl
confider as one of the inailer-pieces of modern eloquence , ,

Apoftrophes and addreffes , to perfonified objeds , frequently
occur , and are fupported with much fpirit. Thus , for
inftance , in the funeral oration of Mary of Auftria, Queen ^
of France , the author addrefles Algiers , in the profpedt
of the advantage which the arms of Louis XIV. were to
gain over it : " Avant lui la France , prelque fans vaif-
" feaux, tenait en vain aux deux mers. Maintenant,
" on les voit couvertes depuis le Levant jufqu'au
" couchant de nos flottes vidorieufes ; et la hardiefle
" Francaife porte par-tout la terreur avec le nom de Louis.

Tu cederas , tu tomberas fous ce vainqueur, Alger!
*' riche des depouilles de la Chretiente. Tu difois en
" ton coEur avare , je tiens la mer fous ma loi , et les
^' nations font ma proie. La legerete de tes vaifleaux te
*' donnait de la confiance. Mais tu te verras attaque dans
*' tes murailles , comme un oifeau raviiTant qu'on irait
*' <Jiercher parmi fes rochers , et dans fon nid , ou il
*' partage fon butin a fes petits. Tu rends deja tes efclaves.
*' Loiiis a brife les fers , dont tu accablais fes fujets ,
" &c. " In another paffage of the fame oration , he thus
apoftrophizes the Ifle of Pheafants , which had been ren-
dered famous by being the fcene of thofe conferences,
in which the treaty of the Pyrenees betv/een France and
Spain ., and the niariage of this Princefs with die King of
Franc& ^ were concluded. " Lie pacifique ou fe doivent

3S2 /APOSTROPHE*

L E c T. Apostrophe is a figure fo much of tlie fame
XVI. kind , that it will not require many words. Tt is
an addrefs to a real perfon ; but one who is either*
abfent or dead, asif he wereprefent, and liftening
to us. It is fo much allied to an addrefs to inani-
mate objeds perfonified ^ that both thefe figures
are fometimes called apoftrdphes* However j the
proper Apoftrophe is in boldnefs one degree lower
than the addrefs to perfonified ebjeds ; for it
certainly requires a lefs effort of imagination to
fuppofe perfons prefent who are dead or abfent ,
than to animate iiifenfible beings , and direct our
difcourfe to them. Both figures are fubjed; to the

terminer les differends de deux grands empires a qui tn
fers de iimites : ifle eterneliement memorable par les con-
ferences de deux grands miniftres. — Augufle journee ou
deux fieres nations , long-teius enneniies , etalors reconcl-
liees par Marie-Therefe , s avancent fur leurs gonfins , leurs
•" rois a leur tete , non plus ]?our fe combattre , mais
" pour s'embrafTer. — '^ Fetes facrees , marriage fortune,
voile nuptial, benediction, facrifice , - puis - je meler
aujourd'hui vos ceremonies , et vos pompes , avec ces
pompes funebres , et le corable des grandeurs avec leurs
ruines ! " hi die funeral oration of Henriecta , Oueen
of England ( which is perhaps the nobleft of all his com-
pofitions ) , after recounting all fhe had done to fupport
her unfortunate husband , he concludes with this beauti-
ful Apoftrophe : , " 0 mere! O femme! 0 reine admirable
" et digne d'une meilleure fortune , li les fortunes de la
" terre etaient quelque chofe I Enfin il faut ceder a votrs
'■'■ fort, Vous avez affez foutenu I'etat , qui eit attaque ,
" par une force invincible et divine. II ne refte plus
" deformais , finon que vous teniez fernie parmi fes
" ruines. "

APOSTROPHE. 383

fame rule of being prompted by paiTion , in order L e c t.
to render them natural ; for both are the language XYI.
of paffion or ftrong emotions only. Among the
poets Apoflrophe is frequent ; as in Virgil :

Pereunt Hypanifque Dyrnafquc

Confixi a fociis •, nee te , tua plurima , Pantheu
Labentem pietas , nee Apolliiiis infula texit *!

The poems of Offian are full of the moft beau-
tiful inftances of this figure: " Weep on the rocks
" of roaring winds. O maid oflniftore; bend thy
" fair head over the waves , thou fairer than the
" ghoft of the hills , when it moves in a fun^eam
" at noon over the filence of Morven ! He is
" fallen ! Thy youth is low ; pale beneath the
" fword of Cuchullin ! *" Ouinclilian affords us
a very fine example in profe ; when in the be-
ginning of his fixth book, deploring the untimely
death of his fon , which had happened during the
courfe of the work , he makes a very moving and
tender Apoftrophe to him. " Nam quo ille animo ,
qua medicorum admiratione , menfium odlo
valetudinem tulit ? ut me in fupremis confolatus
eft ? quam etiam jam deficiens , jamque non
'* nofter , ipfum ilium alienatse mentis errorem
" circa folas literas habuit ? Tuofne ergo , O mese
" fpes inanes ! labentes oculos , tuum fugientem

* Nor Pantheus ! thee , thy mitre , nor the bands

Of awful Phoebus fav'd from impious hands. Drydek.

Fingal. B. I.

384 APOSTROPHE,

L E c T.. " fpiiltum vidi ? Tuum corpus frigidum , exangue
XYL " complexus , animam recipere , auiamque com-
" munem haurire amplius potni ? Tene, confulari
" nuper adoptione ad omnium fpes honoium
" patris admotum, te, avunculo prsetori generum
*' deftinatum ; te, omnium fpe Atticse eloquentise
" candidatum , parens fuperftes tantum ad poenas
" amifi t "• In this paffage , Qjuinclilian fliows
the true genius of an orator, as much as he does
elfewhere that of the critic.

For fuch bold figures of difcourfe as flrong
Perfonifications , addrefies to perfonified objects ,
and Apoflrophes , the glowing imagination of
the ancient Oriental nations was particularly fitted.
Hence , in the facred fcriptures, we find fome very

■f " With what fpirit, and how much to the admira-
^^ tion ofthephyficians didhe bear throughout eight months
" his lingering diftrefs ? With what tender attention did
** he ftudy , even in the laft extremity, to comfort me?
" And, when no longer himfelf, how affeding was it to
" behold the difordered efforts of his wandering mind ,
" wholly employed on fubjects of literature ? Ah ! my
*' fruftrated and fallen hopes ! Have I then beheld your
*' clofing eyes , and heard the lail groan iffue from your
" lips ? After having embraced your cold and breathlefs
*' body , how was it in my power to draw die vital air ,
*' or continue to drag a mifetable life ? When I had juffc
" beheld you raifed by confular adoption to the profpect
" of all your father's honours , dellined to be fon-in-law
*' to your uncle thePrstor, pointed out by general expecl-
" ation as the fuccefsful candidate for the prize of Attic
*' eloquence, in this moment of your opening honours,
" mull I lofe you for ever, and remain an unhappy
*' parent , furviving only to fuffer woe ? "

remarkable

APOSTROPHE, 385

remarkable inftances : " O thou fword of tlie Lord ! L e c t.
" how long will it be ere thou be quiet? put XVI.
" thyfelf up into thy fcabbard , reft and be ftill !
" How can it be quiet , feeing the Lord hath
^' given it a charge againft Aflikelon , and againft
" the fea-fliore ? there hath he appointed it.*''
There is one paflage in particular, v/hich I muft
not omit to mention , becaufe it contains a greater
affemblage of fublimt ideas , of bold and daring
figures , than is perhaps any where to be met with.
It is in the fourteenth chapter of Ifaiah , where
the prophet thus defcribes the fall of the Affyriaii
empire : " Thou fhalt take up this proverb againft
'' the king of Babylon , and fay , how hath the
*' oppreffor ceafed ! the golden city ceafed ! The
" Lord hath broken the ftaff of the wicked , and
■' the fceptre of the rulers. He who fmote the
" people in wrath with a continual ftroke.: h^
'^' that ruled the nations in anger, is perfecuted,
*' and none hindereth. The whole earth is at reft^
^' and is quiet : they break forth into finging,
" Yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee, aad the cedars
" of Lebanon , faying , fmce thou art laid down,
" no feller is come up againft ys. Hell from be- _i- .:
" neath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy
^' coming : it ftirreth up the dead for thee , even
"^ all the chief ones of the earth : it hath raifed
'* up from their thrones all the kings of the na-
" tions. All they fhall fpeak,and lay unto thee,
" art thou alfo become weak as we ? art thou be-
^' come like unto us ? Thy pomp is broughc
^ Jer. xlvii 63 7,
¥oL. L Q G •

386

APOSTROPHE.

L E c T. " down to the grave , and the noife of thy viols:
XVI. " t^^ worm is fpread under thee, and the worms
*' cover thee. How art thou fallen from Heaven ,
" O Lucifer, fon of the morning! how art thou
" cut down to the ground , which didft weaken
" the nations! For thou haft faid in thine heart,
" I will afcend into Heaven , I will exalt my throne
" above the flars of God : I will fit alfo upon
" the mount of the congregation , in the fides
": of the north. I will afcend above the heights
*' of the clouds, I will be like the Moft High.
" Yet thou flialt be brought down to Hell, to
" the fides of the pit. They that fee thee fliall
narrowly look upon thee , and confider thee ,
faying : Is this the man that made the earth to
tremble , that did fhake kingdoms ? That made
the world as a wildernefs , and deftroyed the
cities thereof ? that opened not the houfe of
his prifoners ? All the Kings of the nations ,
even all of them lie in glory , every one in his
own houfe. Buc thou art caft out of thy grave,
like an abominable branch : and as the raiment
6i thofe that are flain , thruft through with a
fword , that go down to the ftones of the pit ,
as a carcafe trodden und^r feet." This whole
paffage is full of fublimity. Every objedlis animat-
ed ; a variety of perfonages are introduced : we
hear the Jews, the fir-trees, and cedars of Leban-
on , the ghofts of departed Kings , the King of
Babylon himfelf , and thofe who look upon his
body, all fpeaking in their order, and ading their
different parts \Yithout confufion.

LECTURE XVII.

COMPARISON, ANTITHESIS, INTER-
ROGAflON, EXCLAMATION, and
OTHER FIGURES OF SPEECH.

E are ftill engaged in the confideration of L E c T.
figures of fpeech ; which , as they add much to XVIL
the beauty of ftyle when properly employed and
are at the fame time liable to be greatly abufed ,
require a careful difcuffion. As it would be te-
dious to dwell on all the variety of figurative ex-
preffions which rhetoricians have enumetated , I
chofe to feled; the capital figures , fuch as occur
moft frequently, and to make my remarks on
thefe; the principles and rules laid down con-
cerning them , will fufficiently dired; as to the ufe
of the reft , either in profe or poetry. Of Meta-
phor, which is the moft common of them all, *
I treated fully ; and in the laft Ledture I difcourf-
ed of Hyperbole, Perfonification, and Apoftrophe,
This Ledure will nearly finifh what remains oil
the head of Figures.

Comparison, or Simile, is what I a:m to treat
of firft: a Figure frequently employed both by-
Poets and Profe >Yriter.s^ for the ornament of Com-

C Q 2^

388 C O M P A R I S O N.

L E c T. pofition. In a former Leclure , I explained fully the
XVII. difference betwixt this and Metaphor. A Metaphor
is a Comparifon implied, but not exprelTed as fuch ;
as when I fay , " Achilles is a Lion," meaning , that
he refembles one in courage or ftrength. A Compa-
rifon is , when the refemblance between two ob-
jects is expreffed in form , and generally purfued
more fully than the nature of a Metaphor admits;
as when I fay , " The adions of princes are like
" thofe great rivers , the courfe of which eve-
" ry one beholds , but their fprings have been
" feen by few." This flight inftance will ihow,
that a happy Comparifon is a kind of fparkling
ornament 5 which adds not a little luftre and
beauty to difcourfe ; and hence fuch figures are
termed by Cicero, ". Orationis lumina."

The pleafure we take in comparifons isjuft and
natural. We may remark three different fources
whence it arifes. Firft , from the pleafure which
•nature has annexed to that ad of the mind by
which we compare any two objedls together,
trace refemblances among thofe that are different ,
and differences among thofe that referable each
other; a pleafure, the final caufe of which is, to
prompt us to remark and obferve, and thereby to
make us advance in ufeful knowledge. This opera-
tion of the mind is naturally and univerfally agree-
able ; as appears from the delight which even chil-
dren have in comparing things together, as foon as
they are capableof attending to the objeds that fur-
round them. Secondly, Th^ pleafure of Comparifon
.arifes. from the iliuflration which the fimik em"

COMPARISON. sS9

ployed gives to the principal obj.ecl; from the clearer L e c t.

view of it which it prefents ; or the more ftrong XVII.

impreffion of it which it flamps upon the mind:

and , Thirdly , It arifes from the introduction of

a new , and commonly a fplendid obiedl, alFociated

to the principal one of which we treat; and from

the agreeable picture which that objedl prefents to

the fancy; new fcenes being thereby brought into

view, which, without the affiflanCe of this figure,

we could not have enjoyed.

All Comparifons whatever may be reduced
under two heads , Explaining and Embdlishinq Com-
parifons. For v/hen a writer likens the objecl of
which he treats to any other thing, it always is,
or at leaft; always fhould be , with a view either
to make us underftand that objedt more diftinclly,.
or to drefs it up, and adorn it. All m.anner of
fubjedts admit of explaining Comparifons. Let an
Vithor be reafoningever fo flriclly , or treating the
moffc abftrufe point in phiiofophy , he may very
properly introduce a Comparifon , merely with a
view to make his fubjedl be better underftood.
Of this nature , is the following in Mr. Harris's
Hermes , employed to explain a very abftracl point,
the diftincuion between the powers of fenfe and
imagination in the human mind. " As \^'ax," fays
he , " would not be adequate to the purpofe of
" fignatures, if it had not the power to retain as
*' well as to receive the impreflion , the flime
"^ holds of the foul with refped to fenfe and ima-
" gination. Senfe is its receptive power; imagin=
* ation its retentive. Had it fenfe v/ithout ima-

C c ^

390 COMPARISON.

L E c T. " gination , it would not be as wax , but as water,
XVII. ■' where, though all impreffions beinftantly made,
" yet as foon as they are made, they, are inftant
" ly loil." Ill Comparifons of this nature , the un-
derftanding is concerned much more than the fancy:
and therefore the only rules to be obferved , with
refped; to them, aie, that they be clear, and that
they be ufeful ; that they tend to render our con-
ception of the principal objed; more diftincl; and
that they do not lead our view afide, and bewilder
it with anv falfe light.

But embellifliing Comparifons, introduced not
fo much w^ith a view to inform and inflrucl, as
to adorn the fubje<ft of which we treat, are thofe
with which we are chiefly concerned at prefent,
as figures of Speech ; and thofe , indeed which moft
frequently occur. Refemblance , as I before men-
tioned , is the foundation of this Figure. We muft
not, however, take Refemblance, in too ftricfl;
a fenfe , for actual fimilitude or likenefs of appear-,
ance. Two objeds may fometimes be very hap-
pily compared to one another, though they re-
femble each other, ftri(n:ly fpeaking, in nothing;
only, becaufe they agree in the eifecls which they
produce upon the mind ; becaufe they raife a train
of firnilar , or what may be called , concordant
ideas ; fo that the remembrance of the one , when
recalled , ferves to Itrengthen the impreffion made
by the other. For example , to defcribe the nature of
foft and melancholy mufic, OlFian fays, "The
^^ mufic of Carryl was, like the memory of joys
*' that are paft, pkafant and mournful to the foul."

COMPARISON. 391

This is happy and delicate. Yet, furely, no kind L e c T.
of mufic has any refemblance to a feeling of the XVII.
mind, fuch as the memory oF palt joys. Had it
been compared to the voice of the nightingale,
or the murmur of the ftream , as it would have
been by fome ordinary poet , the likenefs would
have been more'^ftrict ; but , by founding this Simi-
le upon the effed; which Carryl's mufic produced,
the Poet, while he conveys a very tender image ,
gives us, at the fame time, a much ftronger im-
preffion of the nature and ftrain of that mufic :
"Like the memory of ]oys that are paft, pleafant
" and mournful to the foul."

In general, whether Comparifons be founded
on the fimilitude of the two objeds compared, or
on fome analogy and agreement in their effeds ,
the fundamental requifite of a comparifon is, that
it fhall ferve to iliuftrate the objed, for the fake
of which it is introduced , and to give us a
flronger conception of it. Some little excurfions
of Fancy may be permitted , in purfuing the
Simile ; but they muft never deviate far from the
principal object. If it be a great and noble one,
every circumftance in the comparifon mufl tend
to a2:f'Tandife it, if it be a beautiful one , to
render it more amiable ; if terrible , to hll us
with more awe. But to be a little more particular :
The rules to be given concerning Comparifons,
refpefl chiefly two articles ; the propriety of
their introdudion , and the nature of the objects
whence they are taken,

C c 4

39:3 C O M P A R t S 6 N:

L E c T. First, the propriety of tlieir iiitrodudtioi*».
XVII. From what has been aireaJ)^ faid of Comparifoiis ^
it appears, that they are not, hke the Figures of
which I treated in the lafl LeAure, the language
of ftrong paffion. No; they are the language of
imagination rather than of paffion; of an imagination
fprightly, indeed, and warmed; but undifturbed
by any violent or agitating emotion. Strong
paffion is too fevere to admit this play of Fancy.
It has no leifure to caft about for refembling
objeds ; it dwells on that objed; which has feized
and taken poffeffion of the foul. It is too much
occUj>ied and filled by it^ to turn its view afide,
or to fix its attention on any other thing. An
author, therefore^ can fcarcely commit a greater
fault, than, in the midft of paffion, to introduce
a Simiki Metaphorical expreffion may be al-
lowable in fuch a fituation; though even this
TOay be carried too far : but the pomp and
folemnity of a formal Comparifon is altogether
a ftranger to paffioil. It changes the key in a
.moment; relaxes and brings down the mind; and
iliows us a writer perfectly at his eafe, while he
is perfonating fome other, who is fuppofed to
be under the torment of agitation. Our writers '
of tragedies are very apt to err here. In fome
of IVlr. Rowe's plays, thefe flowers of Similies
have been ftrewed unfeafonably. Mr. Addifon's
Cato , too, is juftly cenfurable in this refped;
aSj when Fortius, juft after Lucia had bid him
farewell for ever, and when he fiiould naturally

t 0 M P A R I S O-^. S9^

iiave been teprefented as in the raoft violent L E c t.
angiiifh, makes his reply in a ftudied and affeded XYIL
comparifon j

Thus o'er the dying lamp th' unfteady fianle
Hangs quiv'ring on a point , leaps off by fits ,
And falls again , lis loth to quit its hold.
Thou muft not go ; my foul ftiil hovers o'er thee ^
And can't get loofe. ■

Every one miiri: be fenfibk, that this is quitg
remote from the langiiage of Nature on fuck
occafionsi

However, as Comparifon is not the flyle o^
flrong paffion , fo neither, when employed for
embellifhment , is it the language of a mind
\vholly unmovedi It is a figure of dignity, and
always requires fome elev^ation in the fubjeclj in
order to make it proper : for it fuppofes the
imagination to be uncommonly enlivened, though
the heart be not agitated by paffion. In a word,
the proper place of comparifons lies in the middle
region , betv/een the highly pathetic , and th-e
very humble ftyle. This is a wide field, and
.gives ample range to the Figure^ But even this
field we mufb take care not to overftock with
it. For, as was before faid, it is a fparkling
ornament; and all things that fparkle, dazzle and
fatigue, if they recur too often. Similies fhould,
even in poetry, be ufed with rrioderation; but,
in profe writings, much more: otherwife, the

394 COMPARISON.

L E c T. ftyle will become difguflingly lufcious, and the
XVII. ornament iofe its virtue and effect.

I PROCEED, next, to the rules that relate to
objeclJv, whence Comparifons ihould be drawn;
fuppofmg them introduced in their proper place.

In the firft place, they muft not be drawn
from things, which have too near and obvious
a refemblance to the objecS: with which we
compare them. The great pleafure of the adt of
comparing lies , in difcovering likenelTes ^ among
things of different fpecies , where we would not,
at the firft glance, exped; a refemblance. There
is little art or ingenuity in pointing out the
refemblance of two objeds, that are fo much
a-kin , or lie fo near to one another in nature ,
that every one fees they muft be like. When
Milton compares Satan's appearance, after his
fall, to that of the Sun fuffering an eclipfe, and
affrighting the nations with portentous darknefs ,
we are ftruck with the happinefs and the dignity
of the fimilitude. But, when he compares Eve's
bower in Paradife, to the arbour of Pomona,
or Eve herfelf, to a Dryad, or Wood-nymph;
we receive little entertainment; as every one
fees, that one arbour muft, of courfe , in feveral
reTpeds, referable another arbour, and one beauti-
ful woman another beautiful woman.

Among Similies , faulty through too great
obvioufnefs of the likenefs ,' we muft likewife
rank thofe which are taken from objeds become
trite and familiar in poetical Language. Such
are the Similies of a hero to a lion , of a perfon

COMPARISON. 395

in forrow to a flower drooping its head , of L e c t.
violent paffion to a tempefl, of chaftity to fnow, XVIL
of virtue to the fun or the ftars, and many more
of this kind, with which we are fure to find
modern writers, of fecond rate genius, abounding
plentifully ; handed down from every writer of
verfes to another, as by hereditary right. Thefe
comparifons were, at firft, perhaps , very proper
for the purpofes to which they are applied. In
the ancient original poets, who took them dire(!Jtly
from nature , not from their predeceffors , they
had beauty. But they are now beaten; our ears
are fo accuflomed to them , that they give no
amufement to the fancy. There is, indeed,, no
mark by which we can more readily diftinguilli
a poet of true genius, from one of a barren
iinagination , than by the ftrain of their compari-
fons. All who call themfelves poets afFed them:
but, whereas a mere verfifier copies no new
image from nature, which appears, to his unin-
ventive genius , exhaufted by thofe who have
gone before him, and, therefore, contents himfelf
with humbly following their tracl; to an author
of real fancy , nature feems to unlock , fpontane-
oufly , her hidden ftores; and the eye " quick
" glancing from eartk to heaven," difcovers new
fliapes and forms , new likeneffes between objects
imobferved before , which render his Similjes
original , expreffive , ^nd lively.

But, in the fecond place , as Comparifons
ought not to be founded on likeneffes too obvious,
flili lefs ought they to be founded on thofe which

^ ^g6 COMPARISON.

L E c T. are too faint and remote. For tliefe, in place di
ZCvII. affifting, ftrain the fancy to comprehend them,
and throw no light upon the fubjed. It is alfo to
be obferved, that a Comparifon which, in the
principal circutnftances , carries a fufficiently near
refemblance, may become unnatural and obfcure,
if pufhed too far. Nothing is more oppofite to
the defign of this figure, than to hunt after a
great number of coincidences in minute points,
merely to Ihow how far the poet's wit can
flretch the refemblance* This is Mr. Cowley s
common fault ; whofe coraparifoiis generally run
out fo far, as to become rather a ftudied exercife
of wit, than an illuftration of the principal
objed;. We need only open his works, his odes
efpecially, to find inftances every where.

In the third place , the objed from which a
Comparifon is drawn, fliould never be an un*
known objed, or one of which few people can
form clear ideas : " Ad inferendam rebus lucem /^
fays Q^uindilian , " repertae funt fimilitudines.
" PrJecipue, igitur, eft cufcodiendum ne id quod
" fimilituditlis gratia afcivimus , aut obfcurum fit,
" autfignotum. Debet enim id quod illuftrandie
" alterius rei gratia aflumitur, ipfum effe clarius eo
" quod illuminatur *. *'' Cosnparifons, therefore,
founded on philofophical difcoveries , or on any

* " Comparifons have been introduced into difcourfe ,
" for the fake of throv/ing light on the fubject. We muft-,
" therefore , be much on our guard , not to employ ,
" as the ground of our Simile , any object which is either
" obfcure or unknown. That , fureiy , which is ufed

COMPARISON.: 397

thing with which perfons of a certain trade only, L e c t.
or a certain profeffion, are converfant, attain not KVII,
their proper effed. They, fliould be taken frcHTi
thofe illuftrious , noted objecls, which mofl: of
the readers either have feen , or can (Irongly
conceive. This lea<ls me to remark a fault of
which modern poets are very apt to be guilty.
■The ancients took their Sirniiies from that face of
nature , and that clafs of objeds , with which
they and their readers were acquainted. Hence
lions, and wolves, and ferpents , were fruitful,
and very proper fources of Simihes araongft
them; and thefe having become a fort of confe"
crated, ciaffical images, are very com.monly adopt-
ed by the moderns; injudicioufly however, for
• the propriety of them is now in a great me afuro
loft. It is only at fecond hand, and by de^
fcription , that we are acquainted with many
of thofe objeds ; and, to m.oft readers of poetry,
it were more to the purpofe , to defcribe lions ,
or ferpents , by Simiiies taken from men , than
to defcribe men by lions. Now-a-days , \Te can
much eafier form the conception of a fierce
combat between two men , than between a bull
and a tyger. Every country has a fcenery
peculiar to itfelf ; and the imagery of every good
poet v/iil exhibit it. The introduction of un--
known objedts, or of a foreign |"cenery, betrays 4

*' for the purpofe of illuftrating fbme other thing , ought
*' to be more obvious and pjaia , thaa the tHn^ iniendgci
*-^ to ge iUur-rated, "

398 8 COMPARISON.

L E c T. poet copying, not after nature, but from other
XVII. writers. I have only to obferve further,

In the fourth place, that, in compofitions of
a ferious or elevated kind, Similies Ihould never
be taken from low or mean objeds. 1 hefe are
degrading ; whereas Similies are commonly
intended to embellifli , and to dignify : and ,
therefore, unlefs in burlefque writings, or where
Similies are introduced purpofely to vilify and
diminilh an objed, mean ideas fhould never be
prefented to us. Some of Homer's Gomparifons
have been taxed without reafon, on this account.
For it is to be remembered , that the meannefs
or dignity of objeds, depends in a great degree,
on the ideas and manners of the age wherein we
live. Many Similies , therefore, drawn from the
incidents of rural life, which appear low to us',
had abundance of dignity in thofe fnnpler ages
of antiquity.

I HAVE now confidered fuch of the figures,
of Speech as feemed moft to merit a full and
particular difcuffion: Metaphor, Hyperbole, Per-
fonification , Apoftrophe, and Compiirifon. A
few more yet remain to be mentioned : the proper
ufe and conduct of which will be eafily underftood
from the principles already laid dowji.

As Comparifon is founded on the refemblance,
fo Antithefis on the contrafl or oppofition of two
objedls. Contraft has alwajs this effedl, to make
each of the contrafted objedls appear in the
ftronger light. White, for inftance, nexer appears
fo bright as when it is oppofed to black j and

ANTITHESIS. 399

v/hen both are viewed together. Antithefis , L e c t.
therefore, may, on many occafions, be employed XVII.
to advantage, m order to flrengthen the impref-
fion which we intend that any objedl fhould
make. Thus Cicero, in his oration for Milo,
reprefenting the improbabihty of Milo's forming
a defign to take away the hfe of Clodius , at a
time when all circumftances were unfavourable
to fuch a defign, and after he had let other
opportunities flip when he could have executed
the fame defign, if he had formed it, with much
more eafe and fafety , heightens our convidiion of
this improbability by a ikilful ufe of this figure :
" Qiiem igitur cum omnium gratia interricere
" noluit , hunc voluit cum alicjuorum querela ?
" Q.uem jure, quem loco, quern tempore, queni
" impune , non eft aufus , hunc injuria , iniquo
" loco , alieno tempore , periculo capitis , nont
" dubitavit occidere * ?" In order to render an
Antithefis more complete , it is always of advan-
tage , that the words and members of the fen-
tence , expreffing the contrafted objeds, be, as in
this inftance of Cicero's , fimilarly conftruded ,
and made to correfpond to each other. This

* " Is it credible that , when he declined putting Clo-
*' dius to death with the confent of all, he would chufe
" to do it with the difkpprobation of many ? Can you
" believe that the perfon whom he fcrupled to flay ,
" when he might have done fo with full jufiice , in a
" convenient place, at a proper time , with fecure impu-
" nity , he made no fcruple to murder againll: juRice ,
" in an unfavourable -place , at an unfeafonable time , and
" at the rifque of capital condemnation ? "

400 ANTITHESIS,

Lk c t. leads us to remark the contrail more , by fctting-
XVII. the things which we oppofe more clearly over
aeainft each other ; in the fame manner as wheri
■we contrail a black apd a white objed, in order
to perceive the full difference of their colour,
we would chufe to have both objeds of the
fame bulk, and placed in the fame light. Their
xefemblance to each otlier, in certain circum-
fiances , makes their difagreement in others morq
palpable. ^

At the fame time, I muft obferve, that the
frequent ufe of Antithefis, efpecially where the
oppofition in the words is nice and quaint, is aplj
to render ftyle difagreeable. Such a fentence as
the following, fram Seneca, does very well ,
where it ftands alone : " Si quera volueris effe
" divitem , noii eft quod augeas | diviti^s , fed
■' minuas cupiditates*." Or this: " Si ad na-
*^ turam vives , nunquam eris pauper ; fi ad opi?
*' nionem , nunquam dives t."A maxim, or moral
faying, properly enough receives this form; both
becaufe it is fuppofed to be the fruit of medi-
tation , and becaufe it is defigned to be engraven
' on the memory , v/hich recalls it more eahly by
the help of fuch contraftcd expreffions. But
where a ftring of fuch fcntences fucceed each

* " If you feek to make one rich , fhidy not to increafe
" his ftores , but to diminifh his defires. "

t " If you regulate your defires according to the fc^ind-
■' ard of nature , you v.'ill never be poor; if according
1' to the flandard of opinion , you will never be rich. "

other

ANTITHESIS. 40c

other; where this becomes an author's favourite L e c t.

and prevailing manner of expreiFrng himfelf , his X\il.

flyJe is faulty ; and it is upon this account Seneca

has been often , and juftly , cenfured. Such a

ftyle appears too ftudied and laboured ; it gives

us the impreffion of an author attending more

to his manner of faying things , than to the

things themfeives which he fays. D^r. Young,

though a writer of real genius, was too fond of

Antithefes. In his Eflimate of Human Life, we

find v/nole pages that run in fach a ftrain as

this: "The peafant complains aloud; the courtier

" in fecret repines. In v/ant, vv^hat diflrefs ? in

" affluence, what fatiety? The. great are under

" as much difficulty to expend with pleafure ,

" as the mean to labour with fucceis. The

" ignorant, through ill-grounded hope, are dif-

" appointed; the knowing, through knowledgCj

" defpond. Ignorance occafions miilake ; miHake,

" difappointment ; and difappointment is mifery.

" Knowledge,' on the other hand, gives true

" judgment ; and true judgment of humaa

" things, gives a demonftration of their infuf-

" ficiency to cur peace." There is too much

glitter in fuch a flyle as this to pleafe long. We

are fatigued , by attending to fuch quaint and

artificial fentences often repeated.

THhRE is another fort of- Antithefis, the '
beauty of which confifts , in furprifing us by
the unexpeAed contrafts of things which itbrino-s
together. Much wit may be fliown in this ; but
it belongs wholly to pieces oi profefTed wit and

Vol. I. ' D d

405 ANTITHESIS.

L E c T. humour, and can find no place in grave compo-
XVII. fitions. Mr. Pope, who is remarkably fond o£
Antithefis , is often happy in this ufe of the
figure. So, in his Rape of the Lock:

Whether the nymph flaall break Diana's law ,

Or fome frail china jar receive a flaw ;

Or ftain her honour , or her new brocade ;

Forget her prayers , or mifs a mafquerade ;

Or lofe her heart, or necklace, at a ball.

Or whether heaven has doomed that Shock miift fail.

What is called the point of an epigram, confifts,
for mofl part, in fome Antithefis of tliis kind;
furprifmg us with the fmart and unexpedled turn,
which it gives to the thought ; and in tlie fewer
words it is brought out , it is always the happien
Comparisons and Antithefes are figures of a
cool nature; the prodiidlions of imagination,
not of paffion. Interrogations and Exclamations,
of which I am next to fpeak , are paHionate
figures. They are, indeed, on fo many occafionSj
the native language of paffion , that their ufe is
extremely frequent ; and, in ordinary converfa-
tion , when men are heated, they prevail as much
as in the moft fublime oratory. The unfigured ,
literal ufe of Interrogation , is , to afk a queftion ;
but when men are prompted by paffion , what-
ever they would affirm, or deny, with great
vehemence , they naturally put in the form of a
quelHon; expre0ing thereby the ftrongeft con-
iidence of the truth of their o>Yn fentiment, and

I]^TERROGATION 403

appealing to their hearers for the impoffibility of L e c T.
the contrary. Thus, in Scripture: "God is not XViL
" a man that he flioiild he, neither the fon o£
*' man that he lliould repent. Hath he faid it?
'' And lliall he not do it? Hath he fpoken it?
*' and Ihail he not make it good*?" So Demoll'
henes, addreffing himfelf to the Athenians : '
" Tell me, will you flill go about and aflc one
■' another, what news ? What can be more
'* aftoniflring news than this, that the man o£
" Macedon makes war upon the Athenians, and
" difpofes of the affairs of Greece? — Is Philip
'• dead ? No , but he is fick. What fignifies it
*' to you whether he be dead or alive ? For, if
" any thing happens to this Philip , you will
" immediately raife up another." All this deliver-
ed without Interrogation, had been faint and
ineifedlual ; but the warmth and eagernefs which
this queftioning method exprefies, awakens the
hearers, and ftrikes them with much greater force.
Interrogations may often be employed
with propriety, in the courie of no higher
emotions than naturally arife in purfuing fome
clofe and earnefl reafoning. But Exclamations
belong only to ftronger emotions of the mind ;
to furprife , admiration, anger, joy, grief ^ and
the like ;

Heu pietas ! heu prifca fides ! invidaque b§llo
Dextera !

* Numbers, chap. %xm, v. 19.

D d '^

404 INTERROGATION

L E c T. Both Interrogation and Exclamation , and, indeed,
XVII. all paffionate figures of fpeech , operate upon us
by means of lympathy. Sympathy is a very
powerful and exteniive principle in our nature ,
difpofnig us to enter into every feeling and
paffion, which we behold expreffed by others.
Hence, a fmgle perfon coming into company
with flrong marks, either of melancholy or joy,
upon his countenance , v/i!i diffufe that paffion ,
ni a moment, through the whole circle. Hence,
in a great crowd, paffi.ons are fo cafily caught,
and fo fad fpread , by that powerful contagion
which the animated looks, cries, and geftures of
a multitude never fail to carry. Now, Interro-
gations and Exclamations , being natural figns of
a moved and agitated mind , always , when they
are properly ufed , difpofe us to fympathife with
the dilpoiitions of thofe who ufe them, and to
feci as they feel.

From this it follows, that the great rule with
regard to the condud of fuch figures is, that the
writer attend to the manner in which nature
dictates to us to exprefs any emotion or paffion,
and that he give his language that turn, and no
other; above all, that he never alfcd the ftyle
of a paffion which Jie does not feel. W^ith In-
terrogations he may ufe a good deal of freedom;
thcfe , as above obferved , falling in fo m.uch
with the ordinary courfe of language and realbn-
ing, even v/hen no great vehemence is fuppofed
to have place in the mind. But, with refpccl to
Exchm:ition5 , h^ mud be more refcrved. No-

EXCLAMATION. 405

thing bas a worfe effed than the frequent and L e c T.
unfeafonable life of them. Raw, ^uvetiile writers XVII.
imagine, that by pouring them forth often,
they render their compofitions warm and animated.
Whereas quite the contrary follows. Theyrenderit
frigid to excefs. When an author is always
calling upon us to enter into tranfports which he
has faid nothing to infpire, we are both difgufted
and enraged at him. He raifss no fympathy , for
he gives us no paffion of his own , in which
we can take part. He gives us words , and not
paffion ; and of courfe , can raife no paffion ,
unlefs that of indignation. Hence, I incline to
think, he was not much miftaken , who fiid,
that when , on looking into a book , he found
the pages thick befpangled with the point which
is called, " Pund;um admirationis," he judged
this to be a fufficient reafon for his laying it afide.
And, indeed, were it not for the help of this
" pundlum admirationis ," with v/hich many
writers of the rapturous kind fo much abound ,
one would be often at a lofs to d;f:over,
whether or not it was Exclamation which ihcy-
aimed at. For. it has now become a fadiion,
among tliefe writers, to fubjoin point-^ of ad--
miration to fentences, which contain nothing but
fimple affirmations, or propofitions , as if. by
an affec1:ed method of pointing, they could trans-
form them in the reader's mind into high tigures
of eloquence. IVIuch a-kin to this, is another
contrivance pracflifed by feme writers , of f par,
ating, almofi; all the member^ of their fentences

4o6 EXCLAMATION.

L E c T. from each other , by blank lines ; as if, by fetting
XVil. them thusafunder, they beftowed fome fpecial
importance upon them ; and required us , in goinsf
along , to make a paufe at every other word ,
and weigh it well. This, I think, maybe called
a Typographical Figure of Speech. Neither ,
indeed, fmce we have been led to mention the
arts of writers for increafmg the- importance of
their words, does another cuftom, which pre-
vailed very much fome time ago , feem worthy
of imitation ; I mean that of diftinguifhing ,the
fignificant v/ords, in every fentence , by Italick
characters. On fome occaiions, it, is very proper
to ufe fuch diftinc'tions, But when we carry
them fo far, as to mark with them every fup-
pofed emphatical word, thefe words are apt to
multiply fo faft in the author's imagination , that
every page is crowded with Italicks , which can
produce no effed; y/hatever, but to hurt the eye,
and create confufion. I;ideed, if the fenfe point
out the moft emphatical expreffions , a variation
in the type, efpecialiy when occurring fo frequent-
ly, will give fmall aid. And, accordingly, the
niofi; mafterly writers , of late , have , with good
reafon , laid afide all thofe feeble props of figni-
hcancy, and trufted wholly to the weight of
their fentiments for commanding attention. But
to return from this digreffion :

Another Figure of Speech, proper only to
animated and warm Compofition , is what fome
critical v/riters call Vifion ; when , in place of
relating fomctbing that is paft, we ufe the prefent

VISION. 407

tenfe , and defcribe it as aclually paffing before L e c t.
our eyes. Thus Cicero, in his fourth oration XVII.
againft Catiline : " Videor enlm mihi hanc nrbem.
*' videre , lucem orbis terrarum atque arcem
*■ omnium gentium , fubito imo incendio conci-
" dentem ; cerno animo fepulta in patria miferos
" atque infepultos acervos civium ; verfatur mihi
^' ante oculos afpeclus Cethegi , & furor in veftra
*' cxde bacchantis *. " This manner of defcrip-
tion fuppofes a fort of enthufiafm , v/hich carries
the perfon who defcribes in fome meafure out of
himfejf ; and, when well executed, muft needs
imprefs the reader or hearer ftrongiy , by the
force of that fympathy which I have before ex-
plained. But in order to a fuccefsful execution , it
requires an uncommonly warm imagination , and
fuch a happy feledion of circumftances , as lliali
make us think we fee before our eyes the fcene
that is defcribed. Otherwife , it ihares the fame
fate with all feeble attempts towards pafiionate
figures ; that of throwing ridicule upon the
author , and leaving the reader more cool and
uninterefted than he was before. The fame obfer-
vations are to be apphed to Repetition, Sufpen-
fion J, Corredion , and many more of thofe

* " I feem to nryfelf to behold this city, the orna-
" meat of the earth , and the capital of all nations , fud-
" denly involved in one conllagration. I fee before me
" the flaughtered heaps of citizens lying unburied in the
" midfl of their mined country. The furious countenance
" of Cethc^us rifss to my view , while with a favage
.^' joy he is triumphing in your mifcries, "

4cg VISION.

L E c T. figurative forms of Speech , wliicli rlietorlcmns
XVII. have enumerated among the Beauties of Elo-
quence. They are beautiful , or not , exactly in
proportion as they are native exprcfllons of
the fentiment or paffion intende 1 to be heightened
hy them. Let nature and paffion always fpeak
their own language and they will fuggefl; hgnres
in abundance. But when we feek to counterfeit
a waTrath which v/e do not feel no figures
will either fupply the defed , or conceal the
impoRure.

There is one Figure (and I fhall mention no
more ) of frequent ufe among all public fpeakers,
particularly at the bar, which Ouindilian iniifts
upon confiderably , and calls Ampliiication. It
confifls in an artful exaggeration of all the
circumftances of forae objecft or acftion which
"" _ \ve want to place in a ftrong light , either a
good or a bad one. It is not fo properly one
Figure , as the Ikilful management of feveral
which we make to tend to one point, (t may be
carried on by a proper ufe of magnifying or
extenuating terms, by a regular enumeration of
particulars, or by throwing together, as into one
niafs , a crowd of circumftances ; by fuggefting
comparifons alfo with things of a like nature.
But the principal inftrninent by which it works,
is by a Climax, or a gradual rife of one circum-
flance above another, till our idea be raifed to
the utmoPc. I fpoke former'y of a Climax in
found; a Climax in fenfe, ^vhan well carried on,
is a figure which never fails to amplify flrongly.

CLIMAX. 409

The cammoil example of this , is that noted L E c T.

pafTage in Cicero Avhich every fchoolboy knows : XVII.

^' Facinus eft vincire civem Romamim ; fceliis

" verberare , prope parricidinm , necare ; quid

" dicam in crucem toUere *?" I ftiall give an

inftaace from a printed pleading of a famous

Scotch Lawyer, Sir George M'Kenzie. It is in a

charge to the jury , in the cafe of a woman

accufed of murdering her ov/n child. "Gentlemen,

" if one man had any how fiain another, if an

" adverfary had killed his oppofer , or a woman

" occafioned the death of her enemy, even thefe

" criminals would have been capitally punilhed

" by the Cornelian law : but, if this guiltlefs

" infant , who could make no enemy , had been

" murdered by its own nurfe , What punilhmients

" would not then the mother have demanded?

" With what cries and exclamations would (lie

" have ftunned your ears ? What Ihall v/e fay

" then, v/hen a woman, guilty of homicide, a

" mother, of the murrler of her innocent child,

" hath comprifed all thofe rnifdeeds in one fmgle

" crime; a crime, in^its own nature, deteftable;

" in a woman, prodigious, in a mother, incre-

" dible ; and perpetrated againft one whofe

" age called for compaffion , whofe near relation

" claimed afted;ion, and whole innocence de-

" ferved the higheft favour ? " I mud take

notice , however , that fuch regular Climaxes as

* " It is a crime to put a Roman citizen in bonds :
" it is the height of giiik to fcciir;:;e him-: little lefs than

parricide to put him to death. \y'hat nrane then fliali I
'^ give, to crucifying him. ? "

4IO C L I M A X

T, E c T. thefe, though they have confiderable beauty,
XVII. have, at the £ime time, no fmall appearance of
nrt and ftud.y; and, therefore, though they may
be admitted into' formal harangues , yet they
fpeak not the language of great earneflnefs and
palTion , which feldom proceed by fleps fo regu-
lar. Nor, indeed, for the purpofes of effeclual
perfuafion , are they likely to be fo fuccefsful , as
an arrangement of circumflances in a lefs artificial
order. For , when much art appears , we are
always put on our guard againft the deceits of
eloquence ; but when a fpeaker has reafoned
ftrongly, and, by force of argument, has made
good his main point , he may then , taking
advantage of the favourable bent of our minds ,
make ufe of fuch artificial figures to confirm our
belief, and to warm our minds.

End of the first Volume.